


Holy Succubus

by NxnsxgnorsDxmon



Series: Nunsignor Short Books [9]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: Adorable, Alternate Universe - Priests, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Cute, Cutesy, Declarations Of Love, Demonic Possession, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, Fanfiction, First Love, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Heterosexual Character, Heterosexual Sex, Heterosexuality, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love, Love Confessions, Magical Pregnancy, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Nuns, Older Woman/Younger Man, One True Pairing, Oral Sex, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Romance, Platonic Soulmates, Possession, Pregnancy, Priest Kink, Priestesses, Priests, Random & Short, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rare Pairings, Reunions, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Gestures, Romantic Soulmates, Rough Sex, Sex, Short, Short & Sweet, Shorts, Sweet, Triplets, True Love, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, nunsignor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-21 08:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19998682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NxnsxgnorsDxmon/pseuds/NxnsxgnorsDxmon
Summary: Exorcism. Victim of possession. Rape. Unexpected Pregnancy. Loneliness. Reunion. The dynamic roller coaster of the holy Succubus, or rather the fiendish being part of a nun. The exorcism of the possessed by the devil young boy Jed results an accident after his failed rescue and bashing the vile spirits of his frail body. What happens if Jude was possessed this time, instead her protégé Mary Eunice?{Rape/Non Con Sex, Sexual Content, Strong Language, Gore, Death/Homicide}Likewise, this book has its a playlist, based on the chapters' names. Anyway you can listen to the Spotify list there: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7Bg3IomHFtAt0FHGlN558S





	1. Weakness in Your Eyes

**Author's Note: Welcome to the new short musical book which is going to be approximately 8 songs, hence, meaning 8 songs in the playlist, sorted by its chapter name and vice versa. The song Weakness in Your Eyes is by Elysion as a debut song of the Spotify playlist. Anyway I hope you like and enjoy this dynamic roller coaster.**

\--- ******* \---

\--- _31st of October, 1964_ \---

Just a few minutes ago the parents of their possessed adolescent arrived in the mental hospital to seek medical cure and council with professionals as their crucial task was seeking the head nun of the mental institution's word at first.

After the Bostonian confronted the recently hired psychiatrist with whom they didn't like one another in the beginning due to their debatable point of views in their worldviews Dr. Oliver Thredson, afterwards she accepted the anxious parents of Jed Potter in her austere, unwelcoming office, in order to hear their jeremiad of the young man, whose demeanor was unspeakably eccentric lately, in their humble opinions.

"Jed's been a good boy. He's always listened. He's never talked back." The younger lady's tear-stained, powdered in incarnadine complexion facial features were contoured with sheer disquietude and distress, brewing and cooking inside her frail skeleton as toxic cauldron. "Our problem started a month ago." All of a sudden, the brunette averted her stare, breaking off the eye contact with the head nun of the mental institution, turning to her husband. In the meanwhile, the visibly at first sight middle-aged man bobbed lightly his head, lowering his glassily jaded gawk, whilst his wife was explaining to the pious, stern sister of the church what Jed used to be until the unrealistically haphazard possession befell him.

"Mrs. Potter, you needn't worry. Good boys gone bad is my area of expertise. I've had great success in curbing the chronic masturbator." At the moment, the Bostonian dry, firm Bostonian accent accentuated her council, whilst the both invited guests in her austere office were listening attentively her without peeling a single word, in order to not disrespect her in any moment, knotting her both elvish, milky as oysters hands' slim fingers as fences.

All of a sudden, the three adults were caught off guard by the recently hired psychiatrist of the old facility, who stepped inside the office, closing warily, politely the mosaic office door, whereas the blonde's elderly still gorgeous, well-defined facial features were silhouetted with vague speechlessness.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. We weren't finished our conversation, Sister Jude. I didn't realize you had company." The young doctor approached the parents, earning the suspicious speechless gawk of the blonde after excusing himself. "I'm Dr. Thredson, psychiatrist here. I'm at your service." Meanwhile, he extended his mammoth, pale as ghost hand, offering the Potters' a formal handshake.

"You need to leave, Doctor." The middle-aged lady got from her seat, , her petite, pale as oyster hands pawing the edges of her cherry wood bureau, nagging at him with coldhearted, stern undertone, scratching her throat, earning his sarcastic gaze with a vague smile, blooming on his pale pinkish lips. Incredulity punctured her grimaced glare at him as if a married couple were cut off curtly in their mid-sentence during a heating debate.

"Uh! Sister Jude, please!" All of a sudden, Jed's mother snapped the doctor and the nun out of their dispute. "Our boy is troubled; we could use a doctor's opinion." They gawked glassily at the brunette.

"How I can help?" Once the brief dispute that Oliver and Jude had, they seated altogether except the psychiatrist as Oliver enquired the anxious mother of an only child.

"Jed just turned 17." Shortly before the brunette commenced with her explaination, she spread defeatedly her hands, seizing her lips and cheeks, shooting an unbreakable eye contact to Oliver. "Over the last month, he's grown listless, moody. Sometimes he doesn't get up from bed for days. And then, the next moment, it's like someone tied a live wire to his body." In the interval, he was sitting on the top of the cherry wood bureau, paying utterly attention to the complaints of the younger lady, assimilating the bizarre symptoms, affecting the teenager.

"Adolescence can be a time of conflict and rebellion."

"No, Doctor! Jed," Jed's mother paused for a split second, glimpsing at her husband. "Sees things! He hears voices that aren't there."

"I'm afraid he'll bring us harm." Suddenly the other man caught the both professionals' attentions in no time. Fear laced his tongue and enveloped his flimsy heart, hammering yet in his chest in a choir with his utterance. "Yesterday, we heard terrible cries coming from the barn. When I got there, I found Jed covered in blood, speaking a language no one could understand. Then I saw what he had done. He had ripped opened the belly of our best Guernsey." The jumpcut to the flashback of the day before when the terrified father witnessed the barbarous scenery of his only son cannibalizing the motionless corpse of Guernsey, still haunting the middle-aged man's blizzard of thoughts by catching his son's prompt attention with addressing him with immense concern, lingering on his tongue portrayed the barn's prospect as a morbid nightmare, tinting his almost frequently blinking in a choir frail eyelids due to the explicitly unbelievable images of his possessed son, who wasn't donned in a single attire to hug his lean figure. His leanly toned chest, chin and the corners of his mouth were christened in a rich, reeking gore after mudding them due to the cannibalism once he turned to face his father with a smug, agape wicked grin, transfixing his citrinely tinged irises with the brightest, most diabolical citrine nuance. "And her heart. It was unholy. It was... it was like some... thing had stepped inside my boy's body and taken over his soul. " Jed's father was at loss of words, sluggish stutter limping his exclaimation.

"Nothing?" All of a sudden, after the temporal silence, arching between the four adults, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer quirked faintly an eyebrow, grimacing her casted hostile look at Oliver. Throughout the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer got from her seat, circling around her hardwood desk, in order to approach the newly hired doctor as her midnight black chunks clicked against the cemented flooring. "For a man whose profession relies on talk, talk, talk, you appear to be at a loss for words, Doctor."

"I-I would need to see him in order to provide an accurate diagnosis."

"We brought him here." Mrs. Potter explained as Jude strolled up to the office door, in order to open it for her guests to flee within seconds, holding it for them by stepping aside.

"Let's go see the boy now." In the interval, the younger man ambled up to the door until the Bostonian belligerently blocked his way, looking up at each other's parchment, palish as snow complexions without averting their gawks. "Dr. Thredson," She hissed his name formally. "You're but a guest in our institution. Don't wear out your welcome the first day." She emphasized the last sentence's verb by raising her voice's decibels gritting her still firm, ivory teeth, consequently lowering her voice.

\--- ******* \---

A few hours later after Father Malachi and the Monsignor have arrived in the old asylum as they're well informed about the possessed adolescent, they negotiated with Jude and Oliver. In spite of their disagreements especially between the recently hired psychiatrist and both members of the clergy, who were currently running the facility. Nevertheless, they reached up to the point that Jed must be cured at any cost and bashing the supernatural, devilish essence which was inhabiting his frail skeleton at such fragile age. Even the supernatural existed nowadays, in spite of its rare, true witnesses.

When the middle-aged lady opened the rusty, old door for the ward where the recently institutionalized young boy was for cure and exorcism, she held the door by stepping aside, allowing to The Potters and Dr. Thredson set a foot in the austere, almost empty ward altogether as Dr. Thredson accompanied her by the right side of the patient bed, whilst the anxious parents were on their son's left.

The battered window bathed in dim sun light the cell, protecting the exposed epidermis of the common cold climate that was dipped Briarcliff.

"M-Mother, where am I?" The young possessed boy's terror and timidity were vomited in his posed question, sitting on the bed with turned back, cocking back his head by looking up at his biological mother, quivering his body muscles. "I'm scared." In the meanwhile, the younger lady seated on the edge of the old, tattered bed where it had galore of patients before her own son, rubbing with her both elvish, milky as vanilla hands his upper back's muscles gently, lovingly to console him, waning the feuding terror and nonplus.

"Jed, this is a hospital. Doctors are here to help you."

"Jed?" As soon as the proximity between the doctor and the inmate closed its gap as Oliver called his name, holding his pocket flashlight, whilst reaching his colossal, veiny hand to pawn his shoulder lightly until the young man growled deeply, fiendishly, startling the horde of adults as they took steps backward. Meantime, Mr. Potter squeezed his wife's shoulders, in order to comfort her.

"Jed needs to be immediately medicated." Meantime, the young boy's shenanigans with deep, diabolical voice floated in the ward, while the psychiatrist suggested an alternative what's the impending step to treat Jed. The religious woman of the cloth's elvish, smooth as silk hand faintly, bashfully clawed the beginning of her rigidly shapeless, dark wool habit's collar as mortification tattooed her facial features. Once the possessed by the vicious devil boy turned to face the sole member of the clergy in the ward, she shook her head as syllables almost died on her tongue tip, incapable of sorting her mind and the words that Jude's going to pour in her utterance.

"No, doctor. That's not what this boy needs."

\--- ******* \---

A few hours after the both devotional men of the cloth have arrived in the mental hospital, they along with the administrator of Briarcliff and the psychiatrist were in already in Jed's cell to cure and exorcize the young man.

The patients were already gathered in their own cells for extra good night sleep due to the head security guard of the infamous madhouse which was delivered from his prominent boss, in order to inform all inmates and resulting the temporal shut down of the common room until the morning after.

The daylight hours have already died in the small city of Massachusetts, as a result of the mesmerizing sunset and the episodical nocturnal hours, consuming in its atramentous darkness, shadowing and painting with darker nuances the sky's prospect with the millions of shimmering tiny, auric stars, outnumbering a sole, full round moon, hovering together.

At the moment, Jed was strapped in his bed, wriggling as he wasn't capable of moving any single muscle of his wrists, ankles and neck due to the straps, binding him to fight either of the professionals.

"Please, please, no, stop, please!" Jed cried out loud emotional protests in desperation, opting to kick though the extra weight on one of his strapped ankles by the ambitious Monsignor's hand clawing to subdue his protests.

"Make it tight now." The elder holy man ordered sternly with his flat, elderly-like voice, squinting up his small irises at the juvenile man, whose pleas were endless.

"You're hurting me. Why you're hurting me?"

"Don't listen to it. The demon is a liar." Father Malachi added, whilst the possessed by the Satan young man inward, forlorn sniffles flashed upon his feeble, palish as alabaster complexion. "If it speaks to you, do not answer, just do your job." In the interim, he cautioned the recently hired doctor wisely.

"My God, this boy's pulse is almost nonexistent." Timothy and Oliver bended against Jed until a violent, demonic seizure and paroxysm erupted his bleated an abysmal howl, collapsing his head on the cotton pillow, whereas his slender, toned body levitated.

"Prayer book, Sister!" The senior priest ordered emphatically, momentarily as if it bears a semblance of a military adjure of fulfilling her remarkable tasks.

At the moment, the blonde scurried exceedingly in no time to the night stand to gather the prayer book, whereas the rosary beads were knotting the younger priest's strong, long as flute stings fingers, crouching down past the patient bed, heaving his hand, reciting in a quiet, halfhearted murmur a prayer until the middle-aged lady handed the prayer book to Father Malachi. "Your work is done here, my daughter. Go sit with the parents. There's no place for a woman." Meanwhile, Father Malachi opened the book's pages, researching for the exact prayer by flipping its brittle paper pages.

"I'm stronger than you think." The former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's promising stubbornness blandly clashed him, unable to change his opinion nonetheless.

"The Potters will be needing some of that strength." Notwithstanding the relentless circumstances, the senior man of the cloth opted to persuade her for her safety and the exorcism weren't for females at all especially endangering her welfare, in case, if she's actually victim of fainting and the subsequence of its possession by the evil finding its new home. Literally her fragile identity with will of steel and versatility.

"Godspeed," Suddenly the British compatriot turned to face his love interest, emboldening her to flee the ward for awhile unless they call her over urgently. "Sister Jude!"

"Yes, Father!" Seconds before fleeing the cell without any farther bland discord, diabolical with profound voice, vile laughter flushed Jed's throat. His cocoa brown orbs, shadowed with sheer concern and limited time distraction were darted to his right hand.

"All right, gentlemen, it's time to do God's work." When Jude fled the ward, she situated in the dim light, long hallway, scarcely daring to avert her focused as a cupid arrow through the battered window of the old rusty door, supervising the exorcism, parting her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as mossy, peach skin lips in a pout.

Shortly afterwards when the Bostonian descended the spiral stairway, calling it "Stairway to Heaven", consequently the elder holy man recited in a mumble the prayer:   
"We exorcise you. Every satanic power, every legion, every congregation,"

"Heart rate increasing, blood pressure rising." Dr. Thredson acknowledged the adolescent's heart pulse.

"Oliver," In the meanwhile, the adolescent earned promptly the psychiatrist's attention in a firm emphasis. "Look at you. I see what've you become. I'm glad I gave you up." Shenanigans in abysmally devilish resonance clicked against his tongue, exposing the genuine identity of Oliver. He snatched his own stethoscope from his boson as they're once plugged into his ears to indicate the heart pulses of the young man, followed by a taunting, resonant guttural laughter, vibrating the motion of his flexed neck muscles.

"Don't listen to it, Doctor!"

"Lose your place, old man!" The teenager couldn't keep his tongue behind his teeth with testing Father Malachi's patience, glancing at him for a handful of seconds.

"We honor You in Jesus Christ," In the interval, the British aristocrat held the cross, praying his heart out for the young boy, bowing faintly his head.

"Stick it up your ass, Father!" Rejoin was arrowed at the man of the cloth, who overlooked and preferred to not focus modicum of his attention on his pleas and taunts, thus losing valuable time in bland bickers."Ominus immundus spiritius! Every impure spirit, yes. We already heard that bit. Now skip ahead. You're boring the hell out of me. Ominus spiritus." The amalgamating in deep, devilish voice with declaiming prayers in Latin and scoffs were the genuine horror, playing its dynamic, infernal roller coaster of the exorcism. "And the Lord said to the cripple, take up thy bed and fly!"

All of a sudden, the smitten boy hexed telekinesis on the senior priest as his decrepit figure levitated from his wheelchair, crashing in the dull wall of the cell, yelping a horrified shriek until he laid on the cemented flooring, catching off guard Oliver and Timothy by scampering to check on him, putting him back in the wheelchair as Timothy ordered Oliver to flee promptly the ward along with the slightly injured senior priest.

As soon as the aspiring Monsignor paced in the profound, dim light hallway of the madhouse by descending the spiral stairway to find his right hand, who was accompanying on the bench with a handful of inches proximity distancing herself, praying whilst grasping in her brittle, fashioned into balled fists the rosary beads, shutting her eyelids. At the moment, the older woman opened her eyelids gradually, grazing her boss's youthful, milky-white complexion as his shoes clicked against the cemented, dull flooring monotonously to meet the Potters' in face-to-face, breaking the current news.

"Our boy! How is our boy?" The anxious mother of her son posed the question distressedly to the member of the clergy, who bowed his head.

"He's fighting. Very hard." In the meantime, the holy man emphasized firmly. "Sister Jude, will you join me?" The pious woman of the cloth got from the bench docilely, mousily escorting her boss by towering the "Stairway to Heaven" up to Jed's ward. "We've taken Father Malechi to the infirmary. I may have to say last rites." Within a half a minute by pacing in the abysmal, almost timeless corridor of the nuthouse, the both members of the clergy stepped beside the rusty, grandiose door. "Watch over him. I'll be back." He promised solemnly. "And pray, Sister. Speak only to God." He rested his forehead on hers, meeting her piercing gaze by squeezing her slim shoulders with his both larger, secure hands, in order to encourage her soothingly in velvety voice.

Once Timothy left her all alone with her own whirlpool of thoughts and prejudices, Judy fixed her frail eyelids with its dead weight, encumbering them flimsily and frailly, reemerging from the comfort zone by dwelling in the crudely cold reality, tugging her in the ebony legion of demons, coldness and shadows. Ineludible fatigue darkened her caramel brown pools, wriggling his frail skeleton.

"I can't see! It burns! I can't see! Mommy, please! Somebody! Somebody help me! Please! I can't see! Please! Someone help me." Meantime, the smitten young man whined desperately with normal voice as the Bostonian reentered the cell by shutting the rusty door behind her, grabbing a clean, purely white, plain cloth to daub the dripping fluid from his eyes until the undertones altered even aggravated into deep, demonic, freaking the only company of his. "Somebody help It drives you crazy, doesn't it? To be the smartest person in the room, with no willpower because of that smelly clam between your legs."Mortification pressed her panic button by attempting to shirk until the door shut by itself in a single click. His reaction was as quick as a bullet. Pulling the iron doorknob forcefully as her heart raced in her ribs cage. Furor of inescapable anguish caged inside her by being trapped by the devil's plotted daredevil game for her."Oh, that's why you became a whore, isn't it, Sister? You're wearing red knickers right now." The middle-aged woman pulled the doorknob, trying to escape exceedingly without an ado, although her elderly young-looking yet, restlessly weary complexion blanched in the most bloodless nuance. "Come on, Sister,put me in your mouth. You've had 53 cocks in there already."The palm of her trembling hand in apprehension whacked against the sturdy, notoriously squeaky iron to grab somebody's attention whether pacing in the halls occasionally or with any intentions. Unfortunately, her goose was cooked. "You were the town pump, weren't you, Sister?" Suddenly, the instantly spat serpentine venom on his recent prey of his daredevil game widened her eyes, barely blinking by opening in a bashful O her mouth. Motionlessness benumbed her muscles and bones as if a deep frostbite stiffened her toes, fingers and each inch of her petite frame. Flashback of her grim past blew its zephyr in her ocean of thoughts, tingling the inner voices of her, chanting a jazz song's lyrics in the bar with her band and encompassed by dancing pairings even soldiers. The richness of her lull softened, earning the savagely ruthless ogles of the bloodthirsty men, contemplating the motion of her curvy, leanly structured hips as its scarlet cocktail dress with long sleeves and V neckline's hem flared across her mid-thighs along. The succumbing halo ringlet of glossy old Hollywood aureate tresses, descending down her upper back as an aureate, regale cloak of a knight. Provoking one of the soldiers to join her to dance by hooking her lean arms around his shoulders as her slim, long as piano keys knotted the nape of his delicate neck, capturing one another's soft as silk lips in a sinfully ferocious kiss, asking him to take her home for an one-night stand until he broke her heart, in fact, the baby was sleeping.

""In the name of Jesus Christ, strengthen me, the intercessor." In the interim, the former licentious nightclub singer dwelled out of her reverie realm, consequently inhabiting the reality realm, surrounding her. An inward prayer zinged her naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips to comfort herself, while dueling with the possessed young man's game. Her flimsy heart throbbed vehemently into her chest, verging to spring up as a paradoxal toy-out-of-the-box.

"Tell me about the little girl in blue, Judy." Jed's borderless taunts attempted to test her patience recurringly with his deep, infernal voice, accentuating his mockery. "The young girl, the innocent. And you so drunk you couldn't find your way home." Infernally stentorian, scoffing laughter tingled her petite, sensitive ears.

Heinous shame and guilty conscience along with amalgamating monstrosity impaled her as a knife, backstabbing her fiercely.

Another flashback, imprinted awfully profound in the ocean of thoughts and memories haunted her for the rest of her life especially after ending the fresh life of the young girl, dressed in blue coat and with the eyeglasses after the heartache ignited instantly her heart and dumping it into the ashening ashes by attempting to delve in her purse, looking for cognac to sip of it until she lost ultimately control over her cab by hitting her only hit-and-run victim. Flinching helplessly, she clamped with a hand, sobbing quietly to herself after dumping on a foot proximity the immobile corpse of Missy Stone laid on the asphalt as an abandoned sack of potatoes.

Her mental stability and stamina were almost torn down to pieces after the flashbacks of her recollected melancholically hunting her down.

"You never even bothered to get out of the car." Missy Stone's hologram replaced Jed, grabbing her homicide perpetrator's attention promptly as her spectral faded away in the void.

"You are a murderer, Judy. You're a murderer! Murderer! Murderer!" All of a sudden, the young man's game kept on, immediately painting her face with mortification and adrenaline, pumping into her veins, whereas berserk hue inked her facial features as her mouth was opened in O, widening her fatigued irises. Fortunately, on one hand, the luck embraced her with open arms, factly, neither her love interest, nor the recently hired psychiatrist heard the words that portrayed the sister of the church. Murderer and whore. On other hand, dubiety menaced her, incapable of releasing herself from the vicious spider webs of the smitten younger man.

"Shut up! You shut up! Shut up! Liar!" Meanwhile, she sped up to his patient bed, smacking with the back of her hand as flapping wing slaps across his face, gritting firmly her teeth, spellbinding him visually with a glare. Uncontrollable anger pumped into her bones and muscles, ruddily powdering her porcelain, round profile.

"Hit me harder, you old whore."

In the interval, the priest and the doctor reentered the ward as Oliver approached on the left side of the patient bed to deal with the struggling teenager, whereas Timothy to drag Jude by her shoulders from the ward, in order to aid her as he was more caring for her rather than for the victim of possession. Her verbal protests were limitless, curling her lips.

"That's right, Father, protect your whore."

"Don't listen to it!" The British compatriot cautioned calmly, alleviatingly his rara avis to not pay any attention to the adolescent. Meanwhile, his sensitive nostrils couldn't resist the urge to inhale discreetly the alluring gardenia fragrance, lacing her honey old Hollywood curls.

"That's right, Father, protect your whore. It's you she thinks of when she touches herself at night." Jed's incessant scoff chanted its song, slipping from his tongue.

"You're a liar." The Bostonian cried out loud bluntly as she and Timothy were almost out of the room without an ado, wriggling frequently in his tight grip as his muscly, potent arms were snaked around her slim waist, grasping the wimple which was banished from her head, coiffing its Pandora's Box in a miserable dark wimple of the chastise.

"Oh yes! Protect your whore." Fortunately, the both members of the church fled the battlefield of daredevil games and attacks.

"Cover yourself!" The younger man tried his best to console his rare bird, encouraging her to put on the wimple as her hands pushed of a fistful stray, flossy gilded strands of her face, coated in a generous layer of perspiration.

"I was weak." The blonde ducked her head, sobbing.

"I'll purge the demon myself. Go, be with the parents. Go!" The holy man of the cloth emboldened her in a warmhearted comfort as one of his mammoth, amusingly warm hands reached for her back reassuringly as she meekly did what he told her, while he joined Oliver to bash the vile, unholy essence of the smitten young man's body.

"Little piggies, come out to play." Once Timothy joined Oliver as Jed shifted abruptly his stare to him, his rosary beads were held up in a grasp.

"Oh Lord, Jesus Christ!"

After the British aristocrat's prayer, the electricity went off as the lights flickered like moths, dancing circa the turned on lights as its lamp bulb was a sanctuary of artificial light.

"Do you want to know what your whore says when she touches herself, Father?" The Monsignor was utterly dedicated to the exorcism rather than listening to the shenanigans of the hospitalized possessed adolescent. Oliver was on the other side of the bed, checking his heart pulses. "Oh, Timothy. Please, don't stop! Oh yeah! It feels so good, Timothy!" The teenager mimicked the blonde's voice, muffling the groans and moans with lethally fiendish, deep voice. The truth was the Monsignor's interest aroused drastically to acknowledge his right hand's feelings towards him whether if they're actually romantic or less than romantic. "I'm coming, Timothy!" The young man resumed his mockery.

Little did the holy man know about the genuine feelings of Judy. What he longed than anything was eventually hearing the mimicked moans and groans in enticement dripping as freshly shed blood from her lips, waffling past his ears as angelic anthems, chanting hallowed songs. Her still drop-dead gorgeous, long as towers legs snaked around his waist as their mossy, pale as ghosts skins contacting, rotating and grinding in unison. The arches of her neck, throwing back her head by screaming out loud his name from the top of her fragile lungs as their sexes united, blushing her cheeks and tightly shut eyes.

"There's no more time for prayers, Monsignor." The doctor cautioned, injecting the syringe into the patient's arm. "His heart can't handle it!"

"Help him! Help him now!"

"Help me sedate him!" The young doctor insisted as Timothy held down Jed, aiding the newly hired doctor to inject the syringe into Jed's arm.

The light smashed in the room as it panicked the both men as they ducked to protect themselves from the shattered lightbulb.

A small amount of froth formed in the young man's mouth, subsequently he began to shake violently as it resembled a seizure.

The exhausted nun watched through the small iron door's window the exorcism process when Sister Mary Eunice snapped her out of her thoughts as she warned her urgently about one of the inmates' is in the cordiac arrest.

Instead of responding to the younger nun, she opened the cell's door as she noted, being convinced that Jed won't survive as he was experiencing a heart attack.

The both nuns witnessed the final seconds of the young man's life, while the Monsignor prayed. "May the lord who frees you from sin save you and grace you."

Meanwhile the young doctor gave the teenager's motionless body CRP.

As Jude and Mary Eunice watched gloomily, Jed let out a sudden gasp, sitting down. He collapsed back on the pillow as Oliver gave him CRP again, counting every beat as Timothy's prayers.

"He's dead."

Jude looked at as Timothy looked up at her. An abrupt creaking sound of falling crucifix from the wall, sourced a click on the stone floor. Meantime, the older sister of the church who watched silently all this, fell backward on the floor as her brittle skeleton landed on the cold stone floor as the 3 adults' fright awoken in them, due to the flump.

"Sister?" Timothy murmured whilst he rushed to his right hand's helpless, immobile body.

Likewise the younger nun interfered as she helped the young doctor and the slightly older member of the clergy with Sister Jude,

\--- ******* \---

\--- _A Few Hours Later_ \---

A few hours after the failure of bashing the Satan from the young man's skeleton, he passed away, resulting the breaking news to the anxious parents as they drowned in the hazy, abysmal seas of their own tears after acknowledging their son's death.

Shortly after Timothy broke the news to the Potters, he paid a visit to the infirmary after Mary Eunice had visited to behold her senseless mentor, whose dark, wimple attire of the chastise didn't hug her along with the wimple, concealing her halo ringlet of sleek gilded tresses.

Little did the British compatriot know whether if his rara avis is going to come to her senses whether within a handful of hours or on the contrary, never. He seated on the edge of her bed, contemplating jadedly, tearfully her parchment, still beautiful face as twin fat tears poured his cheeks. His baby pinkish lips parted in a grotesque, desperate frown.

Father Malachi was absolutely right. It was too dangerous for her to be part of the exorcism cluster to purge the demon by themselves. And her goose was already cooked. Or rather, a lesson was taught to her. At first, Timothy thought it could be Mary Eunice the victim of passing out but instead, it was his right hand. Anyway it flabbergasted him the next victim of fainting was actually Jude. His Jude. His one of a kind Jude.

His larger, protective hand gingerly reached up for her face, tracing delicately her well-defined cheekbone and each eye-catching, feminine facial feature, admiring her ethereal grace. Once his fingers raked and combed delicately the harvest of golden curls, suddenly she stirred, startling him with the suddenness of her stir.

"J-Jude?" His British accent vaguely muffled a whisper in addressing her ecclesiastical name, replacing her birth name which she accepted after joining the church for better life and after God granting her a second chance. "I'm so relieved you're awake."

"W-What happened? Why I'm here?" She glimpsed at every corner of the infirmary, a mild headache whirling as a tornado, groaning in soreful pain after the spontaneous accident, befalling her.

"You're in the infirmary. You fainted during the exorcism."

"Fainted?" Timothy bobbed his head in strong agreement, buzzing his lips pensively, idly. "This must be impossible."

"It happened, unfortunately, rare bird!" In the meanwhile, his hand lowered to her cheek, cupping it in the palm of his soothingly warm, smooth hand, consoling her in a single touch. Paroxysm and shivers relaxed her body muscles and bones as Timothy has never touched any body part of hers except her hands and shoulders. "It's not your fault."  
'All I can remember was that Jed died and therefore I fainted. I lost consciousness abruptly. It wasn't expectable at all."

"I know, Jude! Don't blame yourself for all this. We gave our best to help him but instead, it looks like the devil was more powerful and sly than us." She bundled the cotton, convenient blanket with her fashioned balled fists. "Stay strong and speak to God, seeking his helping hand and my support for you!"

"I couldn't be more grateful for yar encouragement, Timothy! But don't leave me alone, please!" One of her hands slithered from the bundled blanket by snatching forcefully his larger, secure, squeezing it firmly in her elvish, blanched. A slight, sympathetically calm smile carved upon her rosy-coloured, dry lips. "Yar my relief and encouragement to recover as quickly as possible from fainting after the exorcism."

"I won't leave you, my rare bird! I promise."


	2. Love Hate Sex Pain

**Author's Note: Sorry for the lack of updates, nevertheless, I focused a bit on the new chapter of Wings Of Light as I want to update it whether on Thursday or slightly earlier without delaying the week update. Anyway the song's second chapter is based on the song Love-Hate-Sex-Pain by Godsmack by listening it from the Spotify playlist for better atmosphere. I hope you like and enjoy the new chapter! :))**

\--- ******* \---  
\--- _The Next Morning_ \---  
\--- _1st of November, 1964_ \---

The morning after came sooner than Timothy have thought. At first, everything seemed slow to him after his right hand fainted shortly after the young man's exorcism, who was possessed by the devil, to be the crucial reason why his distress was encumbering than anything.

Timothy spent the wee hours of midnight of the Halloween night in the infirmary with nobody else than Jude. He'd rather find himself spending the entire night with her in the infirmary, supervising her current condition, regardless the circumstances rather than crawling in the bed and collecting decent sleep to be awake freshly without any struggles entirely to come to his senses at last. In spite of his intentions to spend hours in the infirmary, one of the nurses sent him off a few hours later, factly, his time was over and the anxious man of the cloth spent the rest of the wee hours of the morning lingering on his seat, or rather lying on his back, casting a glassy, jaded gawk at the celling even when his eyelids were dipped in hampering ounce, abstaining him from blinking and shutting his eyelids for a split second. Restlessness and insomnia muted his primary needs, outnumbering them as if they're in oblivion. He couldn't sleep and close his eyes even to nap. He couldn't masticate normally. He couldn't drink anything. What the British aristocrat was more concerned than anything was his rara avis. His one of a kind rara avis. Neither the once smitten young man due to its mystically vicious demons, nor Father Malachi were as lethally concerning as her. His ocean of thoughts wss plagued with galore of prejudices as if something gruesome might happen to Jude before fleeing the infirmary even worse.

Nonetheless the morning after is presupposed to be alleviatingly assuring for the ambitious Monsignor. For example, Jude might be out of the infirmary safe and sound, besides being on her feet again as her daily schedule is usually hectic with punishing disobedient, vagarious lunatics by canning them with her rich collection of lacquered canes from the thinnest up to the thickest in its size, depending of the charging strength and the inevitable consequences.

The patients were already released from their wards by having breakfast as whether some of them had morning or double shifts in the bakery, or on the contrary, residing the common room as their numb ears listened solely the monotonous French tune, played on the vinyl recording to brighten the grim ambience behind the dull walls of the infamous asylum.

Whilst the holy man was seating in his office, studying certain patients' files during alleged Jude's temporal absence by being conveyed in the infirmary the last night after the disquieting exorcism of Jed, suddenly polite, light door tap caught him off guard, removing his copper eyeglasses from his yet young-looking, parchment complexion.

"Come in!" In velvety, British accent he reprimanded the unknown visitor to enter in his austere office by opening the door, consequently shutting it.

"Good morning, Monsignor!" Politeness and mild cockiness were vomited in her formal greeting to her boss, stepping inside his office as an attention seeking adolescent, scurrying up to his cherry wood desk, meekly grasping rolled newspaper as a scroll behind her spine. Cocky, smug grin bloomed on her naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips, indicating her round, porcelain profile in a readily different light. Shadowed mystically by the demon's intentions of his unspeakable orders, commanding her body muscles and thoughts to follow them as much as her heart bluntly. What it was oblivious or perhaps unnoticed yet by Timothy was that his right hand's plumpish lips were painted with a ravishing red lipstick which was deemed as a sin and against the church. Against God. Against the solemnly took vows. Against the marriage to God and each ounce of hers to God. Infidelity to God with the evil. She tossed carelessly the rolled newspaper on her boss's cherry wood bureau, ogling her honey brown pools at him.

"Good morning, Jude! Are you feeling better?" The younger man unrolled the newspaper, gripping it by the both sides, in order to peruse warily what she's actually delivered to him. A wryly wicked chuckle clicked emphatically her tongue, solely distinctive for her for her own luck. 

"Much better, Timothy! As healthy as a horse." Gamely sarcastic wink arrowed at him. "It didn't take long to recover from the heart attack I had after the unfortunate exorcism of that poor boy."

"Hold on a second, Jude!" At the moment, his attention was fully focused on the article, humming inwardly the syllables he repeated in a mumble after scanning them. "Where this came from?"

"W-What do ya mean?" The blonde played it as silly, nibbling on faintly the lower lip without smearing the ravishing red lipstick, nor staining her teeth with smeared lipstick.

"The newspaper, Jude!" The British aristocrat emphasized, his pale-pinkish lips parted in a baleful pout, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh!" A heavy sigh flushed her constricted chest, releasing fresh oxygen, biting her lip once again to remind herself the coolness to resurface without sugarcoating, nor arousing suspicions, affecting her body language, manners and intentions. "The mailman, of course! Why for heaven sake is that question?" Shortly after the younger man scanned the news article about the once possessed by the devil young boy Jed Potter, who unfortunately passed away on Halloween night, heavy sigh flushed from his chest this time.

"I didn't mean to be brash or something, sister!” Stutter floated from his pale-pinkish, dry lips as his perspicacious stare fell from the newspaper article, leaving it aloof on the bureau by squinting up his chocolate brown pools at her porcelain, doughy complexion even noting the forbidden fruit as bloody red lipstick, painting her lips. Perspicacious frown grimaced his face, contrasting her cockily infernal grin. Impure thoughts, unfortunately, inundated his waterfall of thoughts momentarily when the British compatriot noticed his rara avis’s makeup. Overwhelming sleazy desires, lust and love resurfaced as icebergs, hankering to press his lips on hers in a hardening, sultry kiss, muffling sultry moans and groans from the top of their lungs. Or rather, the explicitly graphic scenario leaving smeared scarlet lipstick on his collar shirt and lips. On other hand, lividness pumped into his veins at the sight of a holy woman wearing make-up especially bright red lipstick. It was against the vows, the church, God and anything hallowed wearing make-up even a lip gloss. “What are you wearing? Exactly on your face?” In the interim, he got from his seat to study in a scrutiny her facial features once again, making sure his vision and memories weren’t false and they’re actually parallel to the reality.

“It’s a lipstick, Monsignor.” Meanwhile, he gathered tissues from one of the drawers, in order to remove the lipstick. “Called Ravish me red. Doesn’t it suit my pale complexion, does it?” Wickedly inward, husky chuckle clicked the roof of her mouth until domineering, stern glare was casted as a hex at her, inking his fresh, charming facial features.

“Jude, you’re a nun! The nuns are forbidden to wear make-up even a lipstick like this one.” Coldhearted, dry exhale constricted then inhaled his brittle lungs. He reminded her ecclesiastical rules of the abbey as if a parent was lecturing his teenager, who liked for himself a garment, whereas the parent was on other opinion nonetheless. “Oh God! Since you’re a nun here and running a mental institution for criminally insane, the make-up is absolutely forbidden unless you flee the church and this institution otherwise.” Her lips parted haphazardly in an arrogant pout once he held the tissues, in fact, to take a napkin and wipe off as she snatched a napkin from the tissues, puffed an inward huff as if she’s deeply offended by his strict demeanor and not saying anything positive about the lipstick whether if it suited her face or on the contrary it doesn’t suit her at all.

“Ya didn’t even say anything about the lipstick if it looked good on me, Timothy!” The older lady emphasized, crossing her arms after wiping mousily the lipstick from her lips until they’re reinstated to the natural color. Glossily mauve, full pair of lips.

“See nobody got hurt after you removed it?” Half-hearted as robotic, light bobbed head backed him up. “Good, rare bird! I won’t report to Mother Claudia that you wore a lipstick in my office but if it repeats once again or you’re violating the rules, I shall report to her even if I’m your boss and she’s your mentor. I’d like to know why you wear it.

“Ya said nothing for which I’m obnoxiously offended.” The middle-aged woman strolled up to the door as her midnight black, classy chunks clicked against the cemented flooring by planning to flee the aspiring Monsignor’s office. “But I just wanted to wear it for you.” At the moment, the British aristocrat swallowed hard the lump, budding in his throat.

“Well, the lipstick looked so good on you but that’s not a bar or a prom to wear it.” All of a sudden, the middle-aged woman stormed off his office by slamming the door, whereas the utterance of his sincerity sounded like a whisper in the desert. Unheard by her. Or rather, heard by her, however, she barely believed it.

\--- ******* \---

Whilst the doctor of science, Dr. Arden was seating in his office as the last time when he received patients in his office was a half an hour ago.

All of a sudden, a couple of loud door raps startled him, reclining on his chair, bleating hoarsely:

“Come in!”

“Good day, Dr. Arden!” In the meanwhile, the younger lady hided a parcel with Nazi souvenirs, stored in its by scurrying up to his desk as her chunks singsongly clicked against the flooring, drawing his prompt attention. “I think ya own an explaination for this one.” She tossed the parcel opened on the hardwood desk, narrowing her brass tinged irises at him, sly smile indicated across her rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips. “Doctor!”

“W-Where did you found this, Sister?”

“Answer my question before I change my decision otherwise what to do with ya unless the answer is delivered with this parcel of disgusting Nazi souvenirs and badges.” Even when the former licentious nightclub singer’s taunting game tried to test the older man’s patience, howsoever, she increased her voice decibels, indicated in a resonance with a tad indignation as if she’s his manager and he owes her an explaination for violation of the rules. Wickedly vile, mischievous smirk danced across her face. “Do not make the hardships from now on even tougher for escaping from them, Doctor! Unless the Monsignor is informed what a doctor is kept to treat patients and what yar exactly doing with them, besides these experiments.” Her elvish, calloused knuckles in fashioned fists hands clawed spitefully the desk. At the moment, the former Nazi war criminal struggled to swallow the light lump, formed in his throat at her baleful, inflammatory blackmail to expose him to Timothy, afterwards to the church, the state and menacing his reputation even more losing his own job as a doctor of scientist in the mental institution for lunatics by going on trial and ending jailed behind the jail bars.

“Sister, first and foremost, you don’t have the right to put your nose in somebody’s business which doesn’t concern you at all. Second, I think it’s better the Monsignor to be informed who’s prying in whose business,” Dramatic, coldhearted cough floated from her lips, roaming circa his bureau, diminishing his self-esteem and increasing the chances of obtaining valuable information. Her recurring egregiously eerie chuckles tingled his ears. “You have your own business, sister! Not to be prying somewhere where you’ve lack of knowledge.”

“Y-Ya called me ignorant and uneducated?” Serpentine hiss zinged her oral caverns, without averting her taunting, scoffing eyes, rolling them in boredom of his secretiveness. “Oh! Let me get this straight, Dr. Arden! The Monsignor will always believe me and he’s so close to me as a friend so that he won’t believe any shenanigan ya have explained to him, because it has nothing to do with the reality.” Her deep, fiendish Bostonian accent contrasted her austere, normal tone that was vomited in her cautions. “And a young woman, who ya tried to rape and ya hired her as a prostitute a few nights ago found these special Nazi souvenirs and illegally pornographic photos in the parcel.” His small, cerulean blue eyes widened at the mention of the young prostitute he hired the last days of October in ablaze mortification tinting them. The true skin tone of his facial skin drained by her daredevil game, blanching it to an unseen wan nuance. “Ya forced her to disguise as a nun and then sweetly taste her peach. I think the detectives aren’t going to be that busy these days to teach ya a lesson and to do a damn good, hectic investigation over ya and everything ya possess.” Suddenly he got from his seat by approaching balefully the blonde, escorting her up to her imminent destination. His laboratory.

“How dare you, sister? Of course, the Monsignor will acknowledge every shenanigan you’ve spilled up to now that concerns my threat to be stripped off my as a doctor of science of Briarcliff and lose any access to the facility.” The former war criminal shot a piercing as a cupid arrow glare at the possessed pious sister of the church as she bit reluctantly her lip trustlessly, almost myriad of eerie, mischievous snickers conjugating her tongue, verging to be straightforwardly emit. “And you will be responsible for the mess you’re bringing with yourself by being stripped off your clerical title and belongin-“ Once he verged to slap her, she dodged his slap by casting telekinesis on him by levitating up to the empty patient bed in his laboratory, being strapped on it. “You insane bitch!” His tongue conjugated a frustrated grumble, gritting his teeth as a wicked, husky chuckle escaped her mouth, crossing smugly her leanly skinny, nevertheless, sufficiently physically powerful arms, marking her glorious victory by disarming him verbally and non-verbally. Dumbfoundness in her unspeakable supernatural, infernal power was recently noted by him even with a stark eye.

“And let’s not forget, who’s responsible for mutilating certain patients and they’re left as mindless zombies to haunt the woods, legless and yearning for human flesh. The Monsignor won’t miss a detail to enjoy removing ya from yar position.”

\--- ******* \---

\--- _A Half An Hour Later or So_ \---

Once the member of the clergy left Arthur Arden’s office and laboratory by agonizing him by being strapped on the patient bed where abundance of mutilated and tortured patients have laid on it before him, Judy went in the common room as a belittling, malicious grin carved upon her lips generously, ambling up to the recording player to pin off the vinyl’s needle to interrupt temporarily for a minute silence, catching the patients’ attention for a prominent announcement.

Her petite, frail hands pushed the double common room door by setting a foot, her chunks frequently clicking along in a choir with the French incessantly playing song on the vinyl.

“Monsignor Howard asked me to do an announcement. Anyway a big storm is coming as half of ya are going to be too afraid by climbing on the brick walls, while the rest of ya won’t stop moving.” The administrator of the madhouse took a deep breath, clearing her throat and thereafter starting with her brief announcement for the inmates in the common room, chewing on her lower plumpish lip. “As a wee distraction from the storm that’s coming way too soon, tonight the movie’s pictures will be played there. Frank and Sister Mary Eunice are going to supervise ya during the movie and in case, if the storm is coming a bit too much for ya.” In the interim, the devotional member of the church put the vinyl back after nobody from the patients broke the ice with cooing a jabble or a soreful bewail, almost shattering their lungs as flimsy and frail glasses, scattered as rich pile of shattered glass, carpeting the ground. Her impending destination was her office by fleeing the common room until she bumped unintentionally into her protégé. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mary Eunice! I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s alright, Sister! I’m rather sorry for bumping into you.” The orphan cooed a bland apology, nibbling on the glossy skin of her lower plump lip, ducking her head shamefacedly.

“Do not apologize, Mary Eunice! It’s not yar fault at all.” In the interval, they stepped in the long, abysmal hallway of the old madhouse.

“Have you seen Dr. Arden?” The elder holy woman quirked puzzledly an eyebrow at the suddenness of her protégé to inquire about Dr. Arden.

“Why yar looking for him?” Sharp tone crafted her response with enquiry.

“It’s so strange I haven’t seen him for a half an hour. He’s supposed to-“ All of a sudden, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer cut off curtly the younger woman of the cloth, flaring her nostrils.

“Sister, ya are supposed to know the truth about him!” The elder blonde winked gamely, mischievously at her protégé which sent shivers down Mary Eunice’s spine of embarrassment and vague disgust, swamping the pit of her stomach. “I know how much he appreciates yar pure innocence and childlike nature, but he isn’t the lovable gentleman he claims to be with this, Mary Eunice! Trust me, the truth is as painful as the heartbreak if ya know what kind of a person is he.”

“W-What do you mean with this?”

An abrupt exhale heaved from the top of her fragile lungs, seconds before the commencement of her monologue, cautioning her own protégé. She deeply knew how much Mary Eunice loved platonically Arthur and vice versa. As soon as the Bostonian leaks the stark truth about the true face of Arden and what he used to be, subsequently nothing than heartache, disgust and abhorrent would ooze from her own protégé. Jude loved platonically and maternally Mary Eunice as her own daughter model more than anything. Jude would sacrifice any ounce of her bones and body to satisfy and keep safe and sound the juvenile sister of the church. Jude would rather prefer be aboveboard about anything, in order to protect her inner circle which were only Timothy, Mary Eunice, Pepper, Frank and Mother Claudia rather than sugarcoat the facts with pretty, sweet exaggerations as sooner or later the stark truth was more obvious than the most sugarcoated exaggeration.

“Dr. Arthur Arden isn’t a blameless gentleman or the man he claims to be with his actions. He’s a pure manipulator and an incarnation of the evil since he’s a Nazi war criminal with a fake biography and name to cover up himself from the Nazi detectives and authorities by fleeing his birth country. That’s not only that, Sister!” They halted in a stop in the mid-corridor by scooping the juvenile blonde in a warmhearted, doting embrace, knotting her arms circa her upper back, her fingers tipping gingerly, lovingly the rigid wool fabric of her clerical robe. “He hired a young prostitute to role play as a nun and plotting to rape her, but in her own horror she found a parcel with Nazi souvenirs and illegal pornographic photos and getting rid off him by escaping him, luckily.” Her berry-coloured, wet tongue crafted whispers, squeezing the younger lady’s upper back flesh. “Look what, Mary Eunice! Hate me or him, that’s yar decision, because it’s better to know the ugliest truth by regretting rather than wearing smiles on the sugarcoated lies.” Quiet sob shuttered the orphan, grasping the embrace even tighter to being consoled as she found her own flimsy heart cracked with a hammer on trillions of tiny pieces.

“But that’s in the past.” The orphan had a difficult time to gulp another sob.

“No shenanigans, Mary Eunice! Sometimes the past is also associated with the present, my darling!” The young woman buried her face in the crook of her mentor’s delicate neck, soaking with her bittersweet, crystalline tears the rigid fabric of her habit. “By judging how he treats the patients, he’s nothing than a sadist by mutilating the helpless ones and their legless half dead bodies lurking in the forest as they’re fed with chunks of human flesh.”

\--- ******* \---

\--- _Later Tonight_ \---

After the Bostonian finished with the film introduction and strictly advising Frank to play the pictures, whilst Mary Eunice is looking after the gathered ensemble of inmates in the common room to watch the film, the middle-aged woman was in her almost pitch-black, unwelcoming office. Furthermore, the man of the cloth was presumed to be with Mary Eunice in the common room, supervising the cluster of lunatics, despite it was oblivious for her he wasn’t with them at all.

Loneliness blanketed under its coldness Judy as she has released her cataract of glossy old Hollywood gilded tresses, piling on her shoulders. Her discarded wimple laid motionlessly on the cherry wood of hers, while she reclined on her compact bed, contemplating glassily, jadedly with her diabolically glinting brass irises the ceiling. She enjoyed the loneliness or rather, the feeling of lack of responsibilities, filling her daily schedule. The communion wine’s bottle was emptied within a couple of minutes without any hesitancy and guilt. The glass which the blonde used to

Heavy rain poured in the small city of Massachusetts, followed by tempest of violent bolts, jolting and shaking the ground, resembling an earthquake’s seizure.

In the meantime, the ambitious Monsignor paced in the profound corridor of the old asylum until he stepped beside his right hand’s office to check on her since her haphazard absence from playing the Sign of the Cross’s pictures. His mammoth, milky as vanilla hand, fashioned in a balled fist tapped friendly on the office door by keeping her wits about her boss’s presence.

“Jude? Jude?” Heavy, jaded sigh flared her chest at the door taps that interrupted the serene silence, nonchalance stiffing her facial features. The middle-aged lady’s ivory, still firm for her own age front teeth nibbled delicately her lower lip at the British, honeyed accent of Timothy, located a couple of feet away. “May I enter?”

“Come in, Monsignor!” She ordered.

“What a relief you’re here, sister!” He swallowed hard once he noticed the emptied communion wine bottle and the wimple on her bureau along with the already used glass. Meantime, he stepped before the ajar opened en-suite bedroom’s door by tapping affably, lightly, awaiting for her response. “I noticed that Sister Mary Eunice and Frank are in the common room with the patients, watching a movie about Christians.” Then he fearfully, timidly pushed faintly the ajar opened door, gulping a solid lump, formed in his throat as soon as in the corner of his eye he followed the eloquent, melodious hum, buzzing her rosy-coloured lips as a sirens’ silver-tongued, alluring songs, chanted to the sailors, in order to manipulate them by joining them until they’re drowned and their corpses submersed in the deep seas of the ocean and being a scrumptious dinner for the bloodthirsty sirens. “Jude!”

“Mhm?” Her sweet, tempting hum vanished in the dark background.

“Your wimple is on the desk to assure you.”

“Oh, come on, Timothy! It’s just hair. It doesn’t hurt seeing a nun without her wimple.” Huffing pout parted her lips in a jeer, furrowing her eyebrows as he stood uneasily a handful of inches approximately her compact bed. “Why ya aren’t with Frank and Mary Eunice watching the Sign of the Cross?”

“I wanted to check on you since the question is you’re absent.” The intoxication blurred her vision as a familiar tall, masculine figure stood beside her bed, slapping with a palm the edge of the bed, ushering him to sit until he noted the motion of the light slap, clapping the edge of the bed. Unnerved lump blossomed in his throat, gulping it hesitantly, scratching with his small fingernails the top of his head. “I’ve never been in a nun bedroom ever before.”

“Don’t be so anxious, Timothy! Just relax by taking a seat.” The nonchalance and velvety in her voice sent shivers down his body of paroxysm, sweetness and boyish embarrassment by electrifying his epidermis with luxurious map of goosebumps.

“It makes me even more uneasy if I sit on a nun’s bed.” The British compatriot’s confession rendered the head nun of Briarcliff puffing an inhale, attempting to not admire the alluring cologne of Timothy, emanating from his delicate neck. His cocoa brown pools lowered to her round, parchment profile, finding himself lost in the holy Succubus’s succumbing temptation. Her porcelain, mossy flesh. Her honey brown orbs, mottled with citrine nuances. Her naturally rosy-coloured, luscious lips, glistened by the sheening moonlight, dispersing its blanched light. Her posh lion mane of flossy old Hollywood gilt curls, shaping a giant sun and framing her round, full profile. The smugness, haughtiness in her devilish grin, kissing his eyes. “I can see even the communion wine is emptied.

“Take it easy, Monsignor! Sometimes there are tough periods when there are variety salvations to release our thoughts from them as well.” Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth gamely as his colossal, trembling hand drifted down to her cheek, cupping it in the palm of his amusingly, soothingly warm hand as its softest texture granted her comfort and encouragement.

“But the alcohol isn’t a solution. Look, Jude!” His long as piano keys, pristine fingers traced her well-defined, lukewarm cheekbone, admiring the elegance, feminine symmetric structure of her profile and identity. “You’re a recover alcoholic and that makes the things worse.”

“D-Does that mean ya will fire me?” Bashfulness laced her venomous tongue in the inquiry, arching eyebrows quizzically.

“No, no! I didn’t mean that, Jude!” Her solely free hand undid a few wee buttons of her conservative habit by reaching for his other hand to squeeze it in her petite, oddly chilly hand. “I think I should take a quick look in the common room how are the patients before,” She cut him off with cunning resilience by hexing telekinesis as he was instantly established on her bed, whereas she pined his heavier, well-built body with her inevitably weightless body. “Jesus Christ, no!”

“Father, I think yar mistaking something,” In the interim, her pubic bone was poked by his bulge, highly affected anatomy by her halo ringlet of silky gilt tresses and her stunning facial features. Suddenly her eyelids darkened, amalgamating with her auric eyes, transfixed on him, agonizing him in an infernal ogle. Consuming and staining his virtue by breaking a vow. “The common room can wait.”

“W-What are you doing?” Meantime, her telekinesis maneuvered his colossal, contrastingly warm hands’ fingers unbuttoning her habit’s fingers clumsily as if it’s his first time touching a female’s cloth especially member of the clergy. Her hips grinded on his, arching her neck and cocking back her waterfall of golden curls. “We’re breaking a vow, sister.”

“Screw the vows, Father! I didn’t know yar so hard for me, father!” The rich gardenia aroma, lacing her untamed curls by succumbing his nostrils, inhaling quietly until her hand lowered to his trousers’ zipper, unzipping it swiftly as a ferocious beast, seeking nothing than vengeance. “Aren’t ya doing this only for me?” As soon as he undid each button of her habit by peeling it off like shed snake skin from her frail skeleton, her ravishing red satin slip was the sole garment that hugged her slender curves along with the black lacy pair of underwear, underneath her slip. “Yar silence means a clear, loud yes.” When she unzipped his trousers by sliding them from his legs until they pooled his ankles and being tossed with her habit carelessly on the ground as a pile of autumn leaves, she yanked his boxers until they were tossed recklessly with the rest of the discarded garments by taking a handful of steps backward and her round knees gently brushing her bed sheets. Her hands worked on his erected member as groans and moans muffled his baby pinkish lips, fluttering shut his eyelids in tiny slits, unable to resist the succubus’s willpower and what’s eventually capable of.

“Oh Jesus Christ! What are you doing, Jude?” His tongue sluggishly crafted the hemming, vibrating its lump in his throat. He evaded to link his irises with hers, fearing of seeing the face of evil. He could really tell she was possessed. It was true Father Malachi opted to sent her off the cell where was Jed and the three men opted to bash off the vile essence from the smitten teenager’s body until the evil found its new home. In nobody else than the Bostonian’s.

“Ya know what I’m exactly doing, Timothy! I’m pleasuring ya.” Resonance muffled a whisper, seconds before suckling his member, massaging it and planting tender to aggressive kisses, teasing it with her hand as she avoided the thick, dark meshes of pubic hair tickling her facial skin. “Yar cock tastes damn good in my mouth. I really needed it.”

“Jude, no!” Whimper floated from his tongue, unable to keep his tongue behind his teeth for a split second, groaning in pleasure and embarrassment. His cheeks vehemently incarnadined with the most vibrant cherry pigment. At the moment, her only free hand’s fingers kneaded slowly and steadily the bundle of nerves, arching her neck by throwing back her head. “No! God!”

“Is it yar first time, Timothy?” Shortly after teasing his cock and circling her berry-coloured tongue around his member tip, suckling the pre-cum until he bobbed his head in strong agreement, backing her up. “I see! Don’t end too quickly! We haven’t even finished.” Afterwards she adjusted her position by being on top of him, positioning his erected cock at her entrance, whilst her both hands grabbed violently his wrists, incapable of fighting her by leaning against his young-looking yet, pale as ghost complexion by capturing his lips in a hardening, steamy kiss to silent him, seconds before starting riding him. “I love you so much, Timothy! Did ya know that?” Gasp surged his constricted chest until she commenced riding him, grinding and rotating her hips on his restlessly. His hard rock member was contracted by her core’s walls with each slow, painful thrust until they escalated to quicker, less painful. Uncontrollably shrilling moans and groans swam in the en-suite bedroom’s background, interweaving with the jolting bolts and the heavy rain. As she spellbinded telekinesis once again, she released one of his gripped wrists by allowing the palm of his mammoth, veiny hand to cup the roundness, firmness of her breast’s contour as his mouth was opened in a wide O.

“Oh fucking Christ! You’re so-“ The holy priest’s cussing was oblivious for him as he relished the non-consent sex he’d for first time ever in his life.

“I’m so what? Tight, right?” In a few thrusts, he’d spill his seed inside her core as their climaxes were approaching, shadowing the recurring ogle at him as a cloud, fogging his vision to have the potent, unavoidable feeling of being incessantly watched. “I knew it ya will agree, because yar body agrees with me either, Timothy!” After dozens of moans and groans along with thrusts, she collapsed on his half naked body as his member softened by being unplugged from her core. Breathless panting flushed their ribs cages.

The night of Timothy’s first time was not only memorable, moreover haunting him to bones for the rest of his days as he didn’t expect his right hand would be peculiarly eccentric in her demeanor. It has been already a day since the exorcism and the unpredictable death of the young boy, who passes away due to a heart attack at fragile age as the devil dwells in one of the nuns of the asylum especially the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer. He was already horrified to bones even to work with her even if he loved and cared about her.


	3. Blessings and Curses

**Author's Note: Blessings and Curses' song by naming the chapter is Wolves at the Gates'. I hope you like and enjoy the third chapter of the roller coaster of the Holy Succubus. I'd like to apologize for this sloppy and short chapter, besides writing another book where Jude is pregnant. Anyway here we go! So much love for everybody! <3 **

\--- ******* \---

\--- _The Next Morning_ \---

\--- _2 nd of November, 1964_ \---

The next morning was embraced by the eloquent, elating song of the chirping birds, encircling the old, infamous madhouse’s façade. Dim sunlight battered by dispersing its natural lukewarm blanket as a comfort over the half-naked body of the pious man of the cloth and the en-suite bedroom, bathing them in lukewarm, late autumn sunlight, guarding them against the common cold climate of the madhouse as well.

The night before while the storm was inescapably ginormous even distressing for the patients and the nuthouse’s staff, it’s a storm for Timothy too. In fact, his virtue was taken away by nobody else by the vile essence that lives in the head nun of the nuthouse. Furthermore, his reputation was imperiled along with his long-career as a member of the clergy. Last but not least, he finally saw the face of evil and the genuinely baleful consequences of the rape that the devil commanded his rara avis’s body to do unbelievable stuff on him without his consent even if he found himself discreetly relishing it.

As soon as Timothy came to his senses by rubbing with his fashioned in balled fists his drowsy orbs and bleating a mere yawn with his morning breath, his cocoa brown orbs were met with an empty bed as a cold welcome and his rare bird’s once discarded habit was vanished.

The truth was Jude got up earlier than her boss by getting donned and ready for the day, in order to release with the security guards the inmates.

Desolation and melancholy bundled him under the chilliest blanket, blanketing his muscly frame. Desolation as he felt dumped as a stray puppy, factly, his owner couldn’t bear the consequences of an ongoing growing puppy being naughty and doing mess which is perfectly normal for his age due to his youthfulness, besides taking the responsibility to clean the mess after him. In the British compatriot’s case was Jude played her own cards right by dumping him after the one-night stand they’d in her en-suite bedroom by being his first ever woman to deserve his virginity, although her possession was gruesome and corrupting his identity. Melancholy, due to the fact, Jude was amidst his sole loyal friends and partners he’s ever had after joining the priesthood. Priesthood, where the friendships, family and lovers weren’t existing as if they’re characterized for much different, unrealistic realm except the friendships which were seldom as second nature, depending of the clerical faces if they develop a potent, loyal and stable friendship through the years due to their partnership.

When the British compatriot had the strength to pick up his discarded boxers and trousers to put them on his half stark figure, all of a sudden a small note, laying on the dressing table drew his attention in no time, eager to read and discover the mysteries behind the message that’s scribbled in the note. In the meantime, he quirked an eyebrow as his temple creased bashfully.

So his lover left him all alone in the bedroom, linked with her unwelcoming, austere office and then finding a note on the top of the dressing table. What a coincidence!

When the British aristocrat zipped back his trousers after putting on his underwear, he strolled up to the dressing table, snatching agitatedly the note, in order to take his time to read it.

_Dear Timothy,_

_I know how much do you love me and that I’m your rare bird, but once you read it, it’s going to be part of your responsibility for the rest of your life within 9 months, because the miracles happen sooner or later._

_I love you too as much as I consider you so special to be the father of our triplets that grow as fresh lives inside me. Don’t be so panicked! At first, I was either, however, I’m not afraid to be straightforward about them especially in front of you except everybody else._

_Anyway one of the triplets is going to be boy, while the other two are going to be sheerly girls. That’s the news I can deliver for now, besides they’re perfectly healthy!_

_I love you so much_

_By Jude_

When his chocolate brown pools, fueled with agitation and astonishment perusing the brief note for him, his front ivory, yet firm for his age teeth nibbled on the delicate skin of his lower lip as his neck flushed in embarrassment and his well-defined cheeks tinted in generous cherry pigment.

How is possible his rara avis to be impregnated especially after she violated him and he planted his seed inside her core? The blonde was readily right. His body relaxed and worshipped his first time as their climaxes approached slightly sooner without having borderlines even if he consciously disagreed, in fact, to not violate the Bostonian’s goodwill and menacing their reputations by breaking a vow. How is possible Jude to be pregnant with triplets since there are minimal chances of a woman especially in her midlife stage of her life to have children that are just more than one, secured inside her bump? Is the devil inside her responsible for her magical, haphazard pregnancy? Are they going to be wonderful parents and imperil to alienate from the ecclesiastical duties, missions and lifestyle for the rest of their days, in order to be proud parents of three children from one pregnancy?

Suddenly familiar feminine, monotonous chunks’ clicking footsteps, emanating from the office dumbfounded him as he left immediately the note on the dressing table, seizing his pale-pinkish lips in a pensive purse by approaching the bedroom’s door to flee the en-suite bedroom until he was met with the older woman, offering him a smug, wicked grin, carved upon her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips.

“Good morning, Monsignor! How did ya sleep?”

“Morning, Jude! I slept well.” Honeyed, British accent accentuated his exclaimation, returning her grin with a benevolently innocent, chaste smile, contouring his charming, youthful facial features. “What about you too?”

“Me either. I slept well! I can’t complain.” Wickedly raspy chuckle clicked against the roof of her mouth, fixing her wimple once again, in order to keep in order the coif, protecting a handful of wild, glossy gilt tresses framing her round profile.

“Jude, I need to go as I’m beyond busy with,” As the younger man ambled up to the office door to flee, meanwhile, the middle-aged lady blocked his path by emitting a wicked, quiet snigger, cutting him off curtly.

“Where do ya think yar going, Timothy? Do ya think I’ll allow ya to go to do yar own business?”

“J-Jude?”

“What is it?” Hoarse whisper scratched her throat, raising an arch of her eyebrow quizzically as their hearts drummed vehemently into their ribs cage as its heart pulses pulsated into their ears. They looked up at one another’s faces, contrasting as if completely different planets are about to collide.

“I’m busy, I need to check the,”

“Ya aren’t going anywhere unless ya listen to me first.” In the interval, the blonde gritted her ivory teeth as her brass dappled irises, filled with desire, lust and love were darted to his chocolate brown irises, mottled with benevolence, pure innocence, warmness and love. Faint bobbing his head in agreement without changing her decision what to do with him if he disagreed otherwise. “It has to do with Dr. Arden. What is exactly the true incarnation of evil!” In the meanwhile, the younger man’s cocoa brown eyes widened in mortification as his lips popped up reluctantly. “If ya have paid a visit to his office yesterday, I guess ya have seen the parcel.” The holy man nodded humbly, docilely as he’s absolutely sure the day before he paid a visit to find Arden strapped on the patient bed in his laboratory and finding an additional piece of evidence of his leery identity. The parcel with the Nazi souvenirs and the illegally pornographic photos, cached altogether as collection. “Good! One of his hired prostitutes a few nights ago found this parcel in his room as she was forced to dress up as a nun and therefore being raped by him. Moreover, this man has a suspicious, morbid past.” Timothy opted to gulp the solid lump, budding in his throat as a blooming spring flower as its petals commenced to flourish. “Arthur Arden isn’t his real name. His name is Hans Gruper. He used to be a sadistic doctor back in Auschwitz and he’s hiding from the Nazi detectives and hunters, in order to not being captured by fleeing his birth country and creating a fake biography and renaming himself. He mutilates some of the patients by leaving them legless to rot in the woods, yearning for human flesh if ya wonder why there are certain patients that disappear in the thin air.”

Silence arched between the both adults for awhile as a heavy sigh flushed from the man of the cloth’s toned chest, taking his time to ponder and reflect on his rare bird’s words about Arthur Arden.

The truth was eventually that the day before Timothy visited the doctor of science’s office by catching him strapped on the patient bed and the parcel with the mysterious, nevertheless, dubious souvenirs and badges along with the explicitly pornographic images stored together which mortified him and made him wonder what kind of a doctor is actually hired to cure the patients in the old asylum.

At first, incredulity inked his young-looking yet, handsome facial features with more vivid palette which questioned the devotional sister of the church, clearing her throat gruffily.

“I-Is that actually true about him?” The British aristocrat chewed on his lower lip for a split second, enquiring his right hand with stutter, produced by his baby pinkish lips.

“It’s. This man isn’t supposed to work in Briarcliff and his place is nowhere else than jail.”

\--- ******* \---

Shortly after the aspiring Monsignor and his right hand fled her austere office as they decided to call the authorities to arrest the suspicious doctor and investigate him gravely, Arthur has just finished with consulting with one of his patients in his own office, seating on his hardwood bureau.

The sudden noise of police sirens that approached the notorious madhouse baffled him at first as he thought at first one of the inmates or the staff members are responsible to being called by the police.

The suddenness of the light door taps, echoing by tingling his ears caught him off guard and snapping him out of his train of thoughts eventually.

“Dr. Arden, may we enter?” The religious woman of the cloth was not only accompanied by the Monsignor, further, by a few police officers after leaking to them about the doctor who was hired by leaking each petty detail about him, numbering his grim past.

“What a bitch!” The senior doctor whimpered a muttering grumble under his breath as his elderly wrinkled, parchment complexion blanched abruptly due to the police sirens and acknowledging instinctively that Jude, his worst foe wasn’t alone at all. “Of course!”

“Dr. Arden, they’re coming for you!” The both devotional members of the church exclaimed in unison, whilst the both policemen, who were visibly much younger than the war criminal scurried up to the doctor of science with steel handcuffs and casting trustless glares at him. Without showing any alludes of mercy. Without showing any modicum of benevolence and warm welcome at all. Smug, vile smirk flexed her jaw line as they crossed their arms, contemplating the custody scene.

“Dr. Arden, you’re under arrest for not only the Nazi souvenirs and attempted rape of a young woman, moreover of torturing and mutilating innocent patients, resulting their sudden disappearance! Any words for this?” One of the policemen handcuffed the Nazi war criminal, whereas the other cop grasped his already handcuffed wrists, dragging him out of his office.

“Screw both of you and you will pay for your deeds, Sister Jude and Monsignor!” The much older man bared aggressively his teeth, recurring glare shot as a cupid arrow at the both members of the clergy. Adrenaline and ire pumped into his veins as an erupting volcano as its lava overflowed beneath his epidermis.

When the elder doctor was dragged violently by the authorities so that to drive him to the custody until the trial which is going to take its place within a few months, the young woman of the cloth was pacing peacefully, nonchalantly in the profound hallway until the pleas and protests of Arthur Arden stopped her in a halt, pursing thoughtfully her lips, growling ferociously after her mentor told her the stark, ugly truth about him.

“Fuck you Nazi piece of shit! I shouldn’t have trusted you earlier. Jude was absolutely right about you!” The juvenile blonde grimaced her youthful, porcelain complexion, gritting her teeth by grunting inwardly the inflammatory language which the nuns and priests were forbidden from using. “I’m so grateful war criminals like you with such past aren’t going to see the light for the rest of their days.” She continued as Dr. Arden was promptly dragged from the grandiose, old façade of the mental institution by seating on the passenger seat in the vehicle.


	4. Criminal

**Author's Note: The 4th chapter is based on Disturbed's song Criminal by naming the chapter in subsequence. I hope you like and enjoy the new chapter, besides don't be afraid to share your thoughts up to now what do you think instead of being silent! I'd be happy to hear your opinions.**

**Warning: This chapter contains gore, strong language and homicide/death which aren't recommended for sensitive audition.**

\--- ******* \---

\--- _A Few Hours Later_ \---

After Dr. Arden’s arrest by the authorities, thereafter Timothy announced to the young sister of the church to visit his office within a few hours, in order to have a grave conversation in face-to-face without even mentioning the real reason why he’s calling her urgently.

As soon as the juvenile woman of the cloth paced meekly as her monotonous Mary Jane footsteps clicked against the cemented flooring as a jumping hare, she stepped beside the ambitious Monsignor’s office by balling into a fist her petite, creamy as silk hand, rapping softly, lightly on the door material by keeping his wits about his recent visitor. Her flimsy heart vehemently drummed in her ribs cage as its heart pulsations pumped into her sensitive, petite ears.

“Come in, Sister!” The British aristocrat ordered, whilst seating sternly on his oak wood bureau, awaiting the visitor to set a foot in his office.

“Monsignor, you wanted to see me!” The juvenile blond shut the door behind her shortly after setting a foot in the priest’s office as he nodded modestly, affirming her words in a strong agreement with a vague, benevolent smile, smeared across his berry-coloured, soft as satin lips. “Do I need to lock the door?”

“Yes, of course, because nobody is supposed to disturb us.” Meantime, the young woman just bobbed her head mousily, doing whatever Timothy ordered her by turning the key in the keyhole, throughout he ushered her to sit against his bureau. “Neither Sister Jude, nor anybody else!” She bit her lip by seating against him, listening attentively each pelt word of his, produced by his vocal stings that surged vocally until they reach his pale-pinkish lips.

“Oh!”

“Are you aware that Dr. Arden is arrested until the trial that will be within a few months?”

“Y-Yes, of course! I’m sure Sister Jude informed you about him, because she warned me either.” Vaguely smug smile blossomed on his parchment, still youthful handsome complexion, bobbing his head in a choir, backing her up, due to the fact, she’s fully aware what a doctor they kept behind the madhouse’s dull walls to cure patients and discovering even leaking his grim past. Grim past as a Pandora’s Box, full of paradoxal and somber secrets, mysteries, prejudices and truths behind the true identity of Dr. Arden and who’s he actually. Furthermore, grim past full of paradoxal and gruesome secrets and mysteries what he’s capable of back then and nowadays.

“Excellent, Sister! But I’ve to admit her demeanor over the past handful of days isn’t the same like before.” Hemming scratched his throat, sluggishly producing the syllables by ducking his head, shamefacedly at the thought of his favorite nun and one of a kind right hand raping him on the night of the storm.

“I think you’re kinda right, Monsignor! B-Because she seems incredibly smart.”

“Not only that! Moreover, I’ve to admit she’s being harsher to the patients and not showing any modicum of mercy and compassion to the repentant souls.” Meantime, his chubby cheeks tinged unhealthy carmine as humid heat crept underneath his facial skin, disturbing him to bones at the haunting thought of her brass mottled irises, amalgamating with the outstanding hazelish-brown pigment which was her natural eye color, shadowed by infernal, invincible yearn to incessantly watch him any fragment of the day and even in his dreams and slumber. Overflowed with sleazy lust, inexorable desire and glacial love as the genuine devil’s ogle to drain every ounce from Timothy’s frail skeleton. The smugness tinting the tempting, wicked grin and flashing its ivory, firm teeth as a crooked smile of the smiling cat from Alice in Wonderland. The porcelain, mossy skin contacting his as they synchronized together in a choir and the forceful, sinful thrusts of their sexes, their grinding and rotating hips. Wicked, resilient chuckles clicking against the roof of her mouth. The scrumptiousness of the luscious, first ever kiss he’s ever received from a representative of the opposite sex especially his rara avis. The explicit images of his maneuvered hand cupped the roundness, firmness of her breast, donned in the satin armor of her ravishing red nightie, hugging her swan and slender curves as a snake skin. “All I can hear is their cries after the canes bloodily canes them and they can’t even sit comfortably. She yells at them as if they’ve committed the biggest crime ever in their life. She has no mercy to them anymore like before.” The both pious members of the clergy gulped hard the lump, budding up their throats as Mary Eunice could scarcely believe her mentor has drastically changed onward for the last 24 hours even slightly more. They loved one another platonically as a mother and a daughter even if they weren’t a biological mother and a daughter at all. Mary Eunice has always loved Jude as her own mother figure, replacing her biological even once foster mother until the destiny fated her to be orphan for the rest of her days. Mary Eunice would still love Jude, regardless how relentlessly harsh is she and her flaws even when the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer is possessed by the devil.

The graphic, unbelievable memories of the inmates’ bewails in pain and sorrow whilst being canned and testing the holy woman’s patience and genuine strength haunted by echoing in Timothy’s blizzard of thoughts, recalling their wails from yesterday as they swam in the abysmal corridors of the infamous asylum as nothing than pleas for helping, seeking a helping hand for more mercy and compassion.

“Oh! That’s a bit too much.”

“It’s, unfortunately, Mary Eunice! I’m completely sure something is inside her and I’m certain the devil that once lived in Jed’s body has found its new home.” Mary Eunice took a deep breath, anticipating the final answer as if she’s awaiting the punchline of the joke with eagerness, rubbing her clammy palms altogether unnervedly, quirking her eyebrows. “It’s Sister Jude! She’s also a victim of possession.”

“W-Why Mother Claudia isn’t informed about it?”

“I’m afraid, she’d doubt her possession unless it’s proven with,” All of a sudden, the elder woman of the cloth entered by unlocking discreetly the office door, entering without an invitation, emitting a half-hearted, coldhearted snicker by earning promptly the both members of the church’s exceedingly distresses stares.

“Am I missing something? Huh?” They swallowed hard at her spontaneous interruption as the British aristocrat chewed on his lower plumpish lip at her inquiry. “Did I interrupt something, Sister Mary Eunice and Monsignor?”

“No, no, Jude! But we’re having a very private conversation.” The devotional priest emphasized, making Jude to arch an eyebrow in perplexion, playing it silly as if she knew nothing about their private conversation between him and her protégé.

“Perfect! Are ya actually having secret plans? How about screwing the buns off each other?” Her naturally rosy-coloured, dry lips parted in the scoff as their faces flushed instantly, without suppressing her girlish, scoffing giggle.

“Jude, that’s quite inappropriate!”

“Monsignor, I think we can discuss this another time!” In the interim, the young nun got from her seat by ambling up to the door, speeding up by fleeing her own mentor’s vicious claws.

“Timothy, I knew it yar cheating on me. How dare ya?”

“Have you completely lost your mind, rare bird? Of course, I’d never cheat on you with Mary Eunice or anybody else.”

“Then what?”

“Jude!” Stammer lingered on his tongue, getting from his desk as the Bostonian approached his desk, their proximity’s gap was almost closed. The blonde was all ears at the moment. “We shall discuss some things which have to do with the last night.”

“A lot of things happened the last night, yeah!” Blatant jeer curled her lips, emphasizing the last words firmly. His cocoa brown irises were fixed on her with shame, disgust and sternness blotching them.

“Fair enough, Sister! But you didn’t forget a lot of things were out of control the last night and it was your responsibility.” Heavy, jaded ablaze sigh flushed from the top of her brittle lungs as firecracker, fixing her wimple once again idly. “Let’s start first with the communion wine.”

“Timothy, sometimes there are tough periods as I couldn’t bear the pain and sorrow anymore!”

“The guilty pleasures aren’t solution to the tough periods, Jude!” The British aristocrat cleared his throat gruffily, catching momentarily her attention as his sternness accentuated his exclaimation since she’s in her boss’s office. “And second, the lack of responsibility during the playing pictures of the film in the common room as some patients has disappeared the following night even under Frank and Sister Mary Eunice’s supervision.” Shamelessly sharp exhale surged from the top of her lungs, bobbing meekly her head, accepting the consequences of the night before during the vicious storm and her lack of responsibility to look after the inmates, during the playing movie in the common room.

“I regret for my irresponsibility the last night as I want ya, Monsignor, to punish me in my office! I don’t owe ya any explaination except repentance for my goose being cooked.”

\--- ******* \---

\--- _A Few Minutes Later_ \---

A few minutes after the both members of the clergy arrived in the head nun of Briarcliff’s office, Jude bended over her hardwood bureau, awaiting her boss to choose the exact cane to punish her for her irresponsibility and repenting for the rape and the sins she’s committed in the last 24 hours.

“Why it takes so long, Monsignor?” In deep, infernal voice, the utterance jeered as a bullet at the younger man, who was yet standing beside the monumental armoire with the rich collection of polished canes from the thinnest up to the thickest for punishing rebellious inmates. “Are ya scared of punishing the naughty right hand for being drunken twat the last night and not being able to hold the turmoil in the common room? Huh?” In the interval, Timothy’s cheeks unhealthily incarnadined mildly feeble rubicund, facial heat agonizing his profile by scrutinizing with his chocolate brown pools the luxurious choice of canes, clicking bashfully his tongue to make the wise decision which whip would be the best for repentance.

“You aren’t twat, first and foremost! Just your irresponsibility and the fact that you’re a recover alcoholic don’t make you a dreadful person, Jude!” He emphasized by choosing sufficiently thick, lacquered exquisitely whip so that to not leave any invincibly eternal scars on her buttocks. “Oh, I forgot to mention that cries in pain from the patients from your office are inescapable since the day before.”

“Some of them were a bit too rebellious and deserved it!” Anyway the British compatriot wasn’t a keen fan of the barbarous cruelty, nevertheless, he’d still forgive his lover by ambling up to her desk, his oxford shoes clicking against the ground, producing monotonous click. “It’s a madhouse for criminally insane. What do ya expect more?”

“J-Jude! They deserve enough whips for their disobedience but not with inhumane sadism and pain as if they’re slaves or criminals with a capital punishment.” Exclaimation dripped from his tongue as a sloppy icicle, verging to fall and harming one of the occasional strangers, adventuring in the wintery destinations. Rigorism cooked up in the pit of his stomach and the impending tempest that was about to tingle the holy woman. “That’s intolerable even in a mental institution!”

“I think you’re the one who should put yourself in their shoes, but it won’t be painful, I promise!” Her mouth squeaked at the cold, dry cough, lifting the polished cane, seconds before contacting the bare skin of her peachy, wrinkleless buttocks by yanking the hem of her rigidly shapeless habit’s hem. His throat barely managed to gulp the lump as soon as his chocolate brown eyes widened at the stark sight of her peachy-shaped, milky as alabaster buttocks. Lacy, obsidian black panties scarcely dared to cover any inch of her buttocks as its thong fabric breached, covering her butthole and labia along with her core. “It’s going to be enough painful to teach you a lesson what’s the difference to be a head nun of this institution and a patient, enduring pain.” Vile, mischievous snigger cracked by glancing to meet the younger man’s generous layer of blush, overally painted on his face, admiring his enchanting facial features before receiving her eventual punishment. “It’s not funny, Jude!”

Silence arched between the both adults as soon as he commenced with the first whip as the blonde abided stoic, slightly flinching from her location as the toes in her shoes curled, cheeping a moan, floating quietly in the background. His fingers bundled the hem of her habit as the fingertips gently, featherly grazed the beginnings of her buttocks, sending shivers and paroxysm down her fragile skeleton of sweetness, humongous, endless pleasure, flowing in her veins, bones and muscles. Sedating her knees as they felt weak due to the Monsignor’s domineering side which she’s never seen and she hankered to behold once in her life at least.

After a handful of canes, the sister of the church whimpered in resonance, vibrating through her throat, interweaving with the moans and groans, muffling them as they’re far from distracting Timothy.

“Please, don’t stop!” Insistence poured in her venomous serpentine tongue, verging to spit it on her imminent victim for endangering her. Pleasure swamped her stomach by lowering to her lower abdomen, filling the holes of loneliness, desolation, heartbreaks and lack of sexual pleasure which she longed for years after taking solemnly the vows and one-night stand lover hasn’t fulfilled her needs, besides touching the unloved and untouched areas of her body.

“I think it’s enough.” His pristinely long, clumsy fingers traced gingerly, delicately the beginnings of welts and pinkish tints, empurpling her buttocks as her skin bristled electrified and dew of goosebumps drizzled her epidermis with pleasant light spring rain. It vehemently aroused their anatomies as Timothy’s bulge thrived between his legs, whereas the Bostonian’s folds drenched momentarily. “I think this taught you a lesson.”

“Let’s hope, Timothy!” Promising mockery floated from her lips, winking at him as he returned the already used cane back to the grandiose armoire, blethering a chuckle.

\--- ******* \---

\--- _5 Months Later_ \---

\--- _4 th of April, 1965_ \---

The trial was just 2 months ago, resulting Dr. Arden’s sentencing for a handful of decades behind the jail bars for his fake identity and the fake name, besides the parcel with Nazi souvenirs and badges, cached together along with the barbaric torture over the disappeared inmates. It was actually the last time before Timothy fleeing to Maine to cleanse his whirlpool of thoughts from the nightmare with the possessed Jude by feeling endangered to lose his life, because of her recklessness and impulses, besides having a fresh start as a Latin teacher in one of the local schools, Furthermore, he resigned from the church just before the trial and he spent months of loneliness in grieving over the unrecognizable face of Jude, being part of her until the demon dwells out of her body at last. On other hand, the British aristocrat felt much better alone by releasing abundance of pressure, although the emphasized words from the note which he read months ago, written by his rara avis tinted his eyelids. The concept of being a father within four more months was elating and surprising in the same time. He’d love to be the father of Jude’s children though he wondered at the moment where she could be.

It has been a handful of months in which the pious sister of the church has been through a dynamic roller coaster of her pregnancy, indicating its true, parallel symptoms to her health condition. Mood swings. Morning sicknesses. Food craves. Irritability. Pain in certain body parts and being less enthusiastic to keep on working the toughest position. Being an administrator of a nuthouse for lunatics whether with opulent or recent criminal record.

Furthermore, Jude’s protégé, Mary Eunice kept her wits about her mentor’s suspiciously eccentric demeanor through the months and being determined more than anything to report to Mother Claudia about her, in spite of the hazards that await her.

As soon as Mary Eunice stepped beside the altar for praying in the church, all of a sudden the monumental double wooden doors of the church were pushed by nobody else than the former licentious nightclub singer, stepping inside as her obsidian black chunks frequently clicked in the desolated church as it became a verbal battlefield between the both nuns.

“S-Sister Jude, what brings you here in the church?” The orphan’s question was posed in stutter, turning to her mentor, meeting her fiendish gaze, grimacing her scarcely wrinkled, porcelain complexion, sheened by the dim sunlight, bathing the church’s interior in bright sunlight as a warm, convenient quilt, shielding frail skeletons from the early spring climate.

“Ah, nothing! Nothing should worry ya, Mary Eunice!” The former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer’s alleviating caution shushed to the young lady, scooping her in an oddly tight, warm hug, in order to console her and peter out any prejudice and doubt behind her smitten identity. “The prayers are extremely healthy and they’re part of our daily care for ourselves.”

“For sure! But I’ve forgotten to tell something to Mother Claudia which is tremendously urgent.” Quirk of an eyebrow creased the middle-aged woman’s forehead, gawking blankly, sarcastically at her own protégé, grinning wickedly.

“What exactly, Sister?”

“Your possession was supposed to be reported to her along with the,” Suddenly, her crystalline luminescent orbs were darted to the somewhat big bump, gulping with struggle as the syllables limped her tongue. “Are you pregnant?”

“How do you think, sister?”

“You must be exorcised and rescued by the demon that liv-“ In the meanwhile, the elder holy woman snatched a letter opener by slitting her protégé’s delicate, pale as snow neck in a swift motion as enthusiastic splattered blood bleeded severely from her slit area, bloodthirsty plush pool of gore, tainted the cemented flooring by gasping seconds before her unpredictable, fresh death. Meantime, overweening smugness tattooed the elderly gorgeous facial features of the middle-aged lady, watching how Mary Eunice chocked slowly but surely at her final seconds before her death, licking with her tongue tip warily the letter opener’s edge, baptized in bountiful layer of fresh, youthful blood. Her mid-sentence might be never finished as the mortality was possible only once for her and it commanded her body muscles and bones.

“I don’t need an exorcism, Sister! All I need is revenge for these, who try to stand on my way to rise in the diocese. Or rather, report anything that’s unusual for them and the rules!” Telekinesis hexed by pumping supernaturally into her veins, levitating the juvenile woman of the cloth’s body by putting it and shutting it in a coffin before somebody found out about the homicide which she has committed and got away. “I think it’s too late to expose me in getting away with murder.” Contemplation of the homicide prospect, taking its place inside the church erupted the blonde’s adrenaline, thrusting in her veins with its searing lava. She crouched down to survey in a scrutiny each fragment behind the homicide of her once favorite nun, without mopping off the grin from her face. Her pristinely slim fingers squeezing loosely in a dangle the slit scar of the letter opener which grazed remorselessly her nubile flesh. Her widely opened ultramarine irises, resembling a corpse of a dead fish after finding its own death on the barren in God’s eyes without being returned in its home where it was fished. Afterwards she shut finally the coffin by fleeing the church as if nothing happened until seizure caught her off guard whilst on her way to get back to her mentor and council her to resign from the church.

In the meantime, Jude kneeled on the grass, clamping with her both elvish hands her mouth, widening at the explicit images of murdering her protégé which took its place just a handful of minutes ago. The devil just left Jude’s body. Sobs broke her to bones. Ounces encumbered with qualms, disquieting her exceedingly. Luminous fat, twin tears trickled her cheeks. Her heart cracked on trillions of pieces. What a fool she was, in her humble opinion! The love of her life moved in Maine just a few months ago after the trial when they saw one another for last time. Murdering relentlessly her protégé all alone. Fortunately, without any witnesses. Heavy rain of desperation and regret poured on her parchment complexion, staining it with crystal, lucid mizzle. She’s about to become a future mother of triplets for first time and her main quest was to resign from the church and find Timothy at any cost before it was too late. Before somebody exposed who’s the brutal murderer of the young nun in the church. Before facing the consequences of her possession. She’d sacrifice each ounce of herself, in fact, to figure out via the possible sources to find where exactly the former holy man lives and in which part of Maine as well. She loved him to death even when she’s possessed and sadistic. She’d sacrifice anything to satisfy her lover. She profoundly, cordially regretted for raping him on the night of the big storm. Regretting for punishing the repentant inmates with incessant whips even leaving tracks of ineffaceable scars and welts all over their bums. She felt hopeless and all alone. Against the entire world. Agaisnt everybody. Against the demon. Against Mother Claudia. Against everybody from her inner circle as if she’s actually betrayed them. Even against the love of her life, who was far away from her. Criminal nature characterized her identity and incapable of handling the pressure and inner voices, assaulting her as swarm of soldiers in her mind.

“W-What I’ve done? I just got away with a murder and killing my daughter figure.” Her petite, brittle hands managed up to squeeze her hairline, ducking shamefacedly her head as her gaze met the ground and the greenness of the ground. “I’m so stupid and Timothy is never going to forgive me! I’m never going to forgive myself for betraying everybody from my inner circle.” Whisper feuding another myriad of sniffle to release the violent tug of her tongue and vocal stings. “Timothy doesn’t want an old drunken whore to be the mother of his triplets. I’m certain he’s going to take them away from me with a courtroom case. He deserves somebody better to be his partner and to be the mother of these lovely sunshines.” Meanwhile, violent baby kicks flabbergasted her breathlessly, scarcely abstaining from shrieking a whimper due to the suddenness of the unborn triplets’ language, only distinctive for the future parents. “Don’t worry, sunshines! Mommy’s gotta yar backs at any cost. I’ll find yar Daddy sooner or later. I promise we’ll be in better hands very soon.” Her solely free hand released its grip from her lips by drifting lower to her abdomen, rubbing gently by baby talking to the unborn triplets, contemplating the full roundness of her pregnant belly with a vaguely tearful smile, touching her lips with a mild powder of blush on her cheeks.


	5. Reunion

**Author's Note: the 5th chapter is based on Bon Jovi's song Reunion. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter! :))**

\--- ******* \---  
\--- _A Few Hours Later ---_

Timothy actually owned his own two-story cottage in Maine's countryside by having a breathtaking, elating view to the woods and the highlands. Furthermore the former devotional man of the cloth was a keen fan of the nature and living in the countryside.

First and foremost, Timothy’s two-story cottage in Maine’s countryside had 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 1 children’s room, 1 guests’ room, 1 kitchen, 1 bathroom and 1 living room. Second, it wasn’t that huge, nor too small. It was perfectly normal in its size.

Anyway, at the moment, Timothy was swinging on the hammock on the porch with a fresh cup of green herbal tea as a couple of pristinely long as piano keys fingers were curled around the handle. The fresh air of spring waffled past his sensitive nostrils. Inhaling the true nature of early April’s days. The vibrant sunrays pelted down, bathing in daylight bright light everything below, filtering with its saturation and protecting them from the light spring chilly zephyr that occurred seldom. Peaceful silence misted the cabin in a warm blanket, blanketing invisibly its serene, spring ambience. The eloquent, elating song of the twittering birds floated in the background, interrupting the silence.

All of a sudden, the phone’s ringing emanated from the corridor as it caught off guard the former pious member of the clergy by leaving aloof on the outdoor table his mug of green herbal tea after gulping a tiny sip as its porcelain material brushed his lips.

His heart drummed vehemently into his ribs cage as little did he know who was disturbing him in the afternoon hours, when he dedicated himself mostly swinging on the hammock with a relaxing, sweet cup of tea.

“Just a moment!” His berry-coloured tongue conjugated a muffled whisper, scurrying up to the front door by stepping inside his property by shutting the door and approaching the ringing phone within seconds without an ado. His colossal, pale as alabaster hand managed to lower to the phone, subsequently keeping clung the earpiece to his ear, answering right away the phone call that he verged to miss. “H-Hello?” Timid stammer floated from his pale-pinkish, tea-stained lips.

“Hello Timothy! I’m so relieved you answered right away the phone call.” The senior woman of the cloth’s breathless retaliation horrified the British compatriot as if the things weren’t approximately alright at all.

“Mother Superior, what’s going on? I think you’re calling me, because you’ve some news about Jude.”

“Absolutely! She just resigned from the church a few hours ago and she’s no money to stay in a motel, nor to afford something to keep herself hydrated and fed,” Heavy sigh flushed the former man of the cloth’s constricted chest due to the immense pressure that was clustered on him for a split second. The breaking news with the Bostonian resigning from the church was far from unsurprising for Timothy especially since she’s in the second trimester pregnant with triplets. She wasn’t capable of running a mental institution for criminally insane and serving the hallowed duties any longer in such helpless condition that was encumbering her. Timothy could hardly picture his rare bird as a future mother of triplets to be a nun yet especially being a head nun of a madhouse, housing lunatics whether with rich or poor criminal history. It’s high time the British aristocrat to reunite with his right hand by escaping Boston together and spend the rest of their days in Maine with their unborn triplets.

“Really? Can you tell me where exactly is Jude?” He insisted more than anything to find out her current location as he’s going to be in Boston back within three hours of driving. The younger man chewed on his lower plumpish lip.

“Unfortunately, no, Timothy! I can assure you, you can find her somewhere in Boston.” Jaded, ablaze sigh flushed his nostrils, ducking his head as Mother Claudia was obligated to keep in Jude’s recent location without betraying her ex-protégé at all, in fact, Jude doesn’t want to be found by the love of her life.

\--- ******* \---

\--- _3 Hours Later or So_ \---

Heavy rain pelted down in Boston’s outskirts, whilst the former religious sister of the church hid underneath the motel’s entrance, in order to not being severely drenched by the heavy rain. Her suitcases with her gathered luggage sat alongside her. It has been already raining heavily for an hour. At last but not least, inexorable bolts jolted the ground, resembling a seizure of an earthquake that shook everything that surrounded her.

She was all alone, homeless and penniless and most of all, pregnant with triplets in the fifth month. Starvation and dehydration amalgamated with the desolation, doubling the physical and mental agony that stiffed her muscles, bones and train of thoughts. She folded herself in a bashful shrug to shield herself against the vicious storm, baring her teeth in terror, ducking her head and her both petite, secure hands rested on the bump, baby talking from time to time to the unborn rays of sunshine.

“Don’t worry, my sweethearts! Mommy’s got ya and we’ll be fine somehow.” Uncontrollable, taunted by its desolation’s impulse sob stiffened her, allowing crystalline twin tears trickling her cheeks.

All of a sudden, a familiar cab drew her attention promptly by parking beside the motel after a handful of hours of driving and researching the small city of Massachusetts for any tangible tracks of the blonde. Her caramel brown, red-rimmed eyes were transfixed on the cab, noting the former ambitious Monsignor getting from the car momentarily, speeding up to her without an ado.

Her heart sunk in no time and leapt in the same time as a breathlessly scurrying hare, trying to evade the malicious hunters’ bullets from their shotguns on the hills. On one hand, the middle-aged lady was beyond mirthful to behold the love of her life just two months after trial again by reuniting somehow especially beside one of the Boston motels especially when she’s in the toughest situation right now. Vaguely beaming, blissful smile budded across her lips as a blooming spring flower after surviving the glacial, merciless winter. On other hand, livid and ire brewed and cooked inside her, besides pumping violently into her veins with erupting volcano’s lava, overflowing the fluid. How the once holy priest dares to godforsaken her in the toughest moment in her life especially during her possession and shortly after acknowledging via the odd note her haphazard pregnancy? Why he didn’t exorcize her and lost her via exorcism or by being murdered malignantly by his both stark hands to ebb off her pain and suffer back then? Galore of questions submerged her blizzard of thoughts.

“T-Timothy!” The older woman whimpered his name in awe stammer, harmonizing her lips by grabbing immediately her suitcases with her baggage, dashing up to the masculine, tall figure who threw his arms in the air, in order to scoop her in a tight, kindhearted hug.

“Rare bird! I’m so relieved and happy to see you again.” He grasped the embrace, absorbing mutual warmness that prickled their epidermis beneath their garments. His chin rested on the top of her head, planting a tender, feather kiss on her forehead with his baby pinkish, soft as satin lips. “I really missed you. I’m so sorry for leaving you, when we needed each other the most!” Shortly after they broke off the embrace, they took their time to admire one another’s facial features as the younger man cupped her both ruddy tinted, pleasantly balmy cheeks in the palms of his colossal, soothingly affectionate hands. His cocoa brown orbs, fueled with sheer relief, love, warmness and benevolence, dappling with warmer, more vibrant cocoa mapping pigments. The recurring sob drenched the former holy man’s blazer. Meantime, the future mother’s both alabaster, pudgy arms were clasped around his muscly, broad shoulders. “I was such an idiot for leaving you when I needed to help you the most.”

“It’s alright, Timothy! At least, I’m happy we’re back together but,” With the tad of his thumb he daubed the trickle rivulet of tears, throughout tracing gingerly, delicately her well-defined, tear-stained cheekbone, admiring her ethereal grace. “But I owe ya an apology for raping ya and messing ya! I’m the reason why ya were afraid and I could kill ya with my supernatural infernal power.” Her petite, lukewarm hands squeezed his shoulders, ducking shamefacedly her head until his solely free hand’s a few fingers slithered downward to her chin, cupping it by tilting her head to meet het sheepishly girlish, remorseful stare. “I think it was better for both of us until the devil left my body so that to not ruin somebody else’s life and yars too.”

“No, no, no! Do not blame yourself for this! It was the devil, commanding you doing these malicious, unspeakable things which never my rare bird would do in the name of our love.” In the meantime, alleviating shush floated from his lips as a barking caution, whereas the former licentious jazz nightclub singer was guided to the car by seating alongside the driver as they hopped up within a couple of seconds. A snaked strong, muscly arm around her waist and rubbing her spine nerves to bring her comfort were enough curing her sob as they suddenly faded away.”I know you much better than the devil is capable of controlling you. You’re so strong, Jude!”

“Ya won’t believe me what I did in the past weeks after the trial up to nowadays. Trust me, Tim,” In the interval, he removed his blazer from his frail skeleton, in order to maneuver his lover to grasp the blazer’s lapels with a couple of fingers of her both hands, reclining on her seat as soon as the car engine commencing buzzing monotonously, jadedly.

“You need to rest until we’re home! You’re pretty exhausted, besides peckish and dehydrated.” A mammoth, amusingly warm hand muffled her plea, muting her bleated self-criticism with criminal self-hatred. Thereafter her chubby, incarnadined cheeks were peppered with affectionate, light kisses as she molted in them. In the interval, seconds before starting driving back to Maine up to his private owned cottage, he tucked a fistful of wild, greasy stray strands behind her petite, sensitive ear. “And let’s not forget, Mother Claudia told me you’re homeless and penniless after resigning from the church by having no other choice than roaming.” Suddenly, the former promiscuous nightclub singer found herself drifted off sleeping without squeaking a single sound while catnapping peacefully. It beyond relieved the British aristocrat that he found his rara avis in front of a motel’s entrance and picking her up from it even having the chance to have a small conversation shortly before the dull cab’s engine buzzing built heavy bricks of ounce in her eyelids, unable to keep herself for any longer awake. Weight from his shoulders was lifted off after reuniting with the love of his life as their imminent destination was his two-story cottage in Maine’s outskirts and during their destination, he avoided turning the car radio, in order to play a distracting music for the three-hour-journey.


	6. Missing

**Author's Note: The 6th chapter song is based on Missing by Evanescence.**

**Anyway I hope you like and enjoy the 6th chapter!**

\--- ******* \---  
\--- _Later That Day_ \---  


The former pious sister of the church spent the rest of the day in naps during their car journey up to Maine and after their arrival when she took a fresh, lukewarm shower, ate scrambled eggs with cheese and green salad.

During Jude's nap, Timothy was gone to the most nigh grocery store to buy a few more products since he finished them earlier today and afterwards purchasing a moonstone, pearly compact proposal ring as he yearned more than anything to spend the rest of his days with his rara avis more than anything. Regardless her mistakes and the crimes she committed during her inescapable possession, the British compatriot still loved her and he'd sacrifice anything in the name of his love for her. She was perfection into his eyes, regardless her mistakes and vices that eased the ugliness to fog his vision when he beholds her and acknowledges the unavoidable deeds that are from unbelievable. He’d never alienate from her ever again and he’s going to always stand next to her even in the toughest moments that they confront as a dynamic gravity of trials, circling them.

As soon as the Bostonian came to her senses on the double bed, she muffled a mere yawn with her petite, milky as vanilla hand, throughout rubbing her drowsy eyelids with her fashioned in balled fists. Her halo ringlet of flossy old Hollywood aureate tresses were tied in a low, careless bun as a fistful of wild, promisingly glossy gilded curls that framed her porcelain, yet youthful complexion. Conveniently oyster-colored cotton nightgown with ruffled short sleeves, round neckline by exposing partly her collarbones and neck’s mossy, delicate skin as its hem flared across her ankles.

Silence misted the second bedroom that was upstairs. All of a sudden, familiar masculine, monotonous footsteps echoed in the hallway, catching her attention. It was the former aspiring Monsignor.

As the same footsteps approached the bedroom, they stopped in a halt by stepping beside the door, followed by a few docile, light door taps drumming on the oak wood.

“Yes?” Her berry-coloured tongue conjugated the stutter, as a result of ushering the once holy priest to enter in the bedroom as his colossal, veiny hand managed to lower to the doorknob, turning it until the door in a single click was opened, setting a foot in the room. “Oh, Timothy! Hi!” She sat on the edge of the double bed, landing her caramel brown orbs on him as a vaguely benevolent, radiant smile budding across her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips.

“Hi, rare bird!” Shortly after he shut the door, he approached her by seating alongside her on the edge of the bed, planting a tender, feather kiss on the top of her head, whereas one of his muscly, strong arms snaked around her pudgy waist and his solely free mammoth, secure hand rested on top of her elvish one that was on her bump. The former devotional sister of the church molted in the tender kiss, prickling her epidermis with electrifying paroxysm and shivers down her frail skeleton of sweetness, pleasure and elation. “Did you sleep well?” The first question that ever popped up in his whirlpool of thoughts was to acknowledge her current condition after catnapping for a few hours.

“Yeah, I did! I’m good, thanks.” The Bostonian rested her head on his shoulder bluntly, chewing on her lower plump lip at his question. “So as our lovely triplets had a good nap too even when Mommy was asleep.” Scoff parted her lips, drifting her gaze to the sorefully fubsy stomach, admiring its hugeness.

“For sure!” The former Monsignor chuckled.

“But Timothy, I really need to tell ya something.” In the interim, he chocked on her words and uneasily heaving the deep breath to release some pressure even when the remorse cramped her. “Before thinking twice with whom ya plan to spend the rest of yar days, you know.” His chocolate brown orbs stung widened as she ruefully suckled on her lower lip. “And who’s going to be actually the mother of these triplets.”

“Jude, no matter your mistakes or if you’re the most vicious murderer, I’ll still love you for who you’re,” Pause pricked his tongue by inhaling the breathtaking, alluring long mop of golden curls’ in a low messy bun mint aroma, opting to not distract himself so far as one of his hands drifted upward to the beginnings of rich long strands that framed her alabaster complexion, twirling and curling them on his pristine forefinger. “Don’t get me wrong by changing my mind!”

“I just did it today and I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I’ll never forgive mysel-“ Meanwhile, Timothy cut her off curtly, playing yet with the luxurious softness and crispiness of her stray, glossy strands.

“I told you what I think. Just spit it out! I won’t judge you.” Assuringly, emboldeningly persistent was the British compatriot to listen to her biggest remorse that gnawed her inside and kept caged its mysterious box, full of secrets, full of regrets, full of vices and full of prejudices.

“Yesterday when I entered in the church, I found Mary Eunice was praying and she threatened me to be exorcized even noticed that I’m pregnant. Therefore,” The middle-aged lady could scarcely gulp the solid lump, formed in her throat, ducking chagrinedly her head, averting her stare from her lover’s. At the moment, his pale-pinkish lips seized in a pensive, attentive purse, while he’s all ears. “Therefore, I slit her throat with my letter opener and used to cast telekinesis by putting her in the coffin. I just watched her how she’s suffering and dying. I watched her with smugness but once I left the church, the devil left my body even without the need of exorcism and I decided to consult with Mother Claudia by resigning from the church.” Salty rivulet of tears dripped from her lower eyelids as twins, unable to control and ebb them out somehow. Then his baby pinkish, cherub lips popped up at her guilt-ridden confession. The explicitly graphic images tinted her vision, picturing the grimmest crime she’s ever committed during her vile possession. The sight of her former protégé chocking helplessly by grasping with her vestal, slim fingers the slit area by severely bleeding, flumping on the church’s cemented flooring wide-eyed in the last seconds of her fatal end. Even more the infernal, cockily smug grin that she wore across her lips as armor back then haunted her to mortification, sobbing quietly at the haunting images of her way to get away with a murder. The heartache impaled void holes in her heart which were almost incorrigible to be refilled its gaps. Gaps of mortification, horror, disquietude and ire. “I wasn’t feeling safe anymore even when the devil left my body. I felt like the police and the church will investigate me sooner or later if they find out I murdered Mary Eunice. She deserved much better.” Dissatisfied grunt squeaked her tongue, amalgamating with the sobs whilst the former man of the cloth kissed gently, lovingly her salty tears, savoring its bittersweet, crystalline saltiness.

“I’m deeply sorry for Mary Eunice’s death. At least, she’s on better place now,” The former man of the cloth curled his arm around her waist, grasping the embrace even tighter and allowing her to bury her tear-stained, red-rimmed face, mapped with sweltering heat in his chest, consoling her by reaching up for her upper back, rubbing consonlingly the pudgier flesh. Optimism and realism antagonized one another in Timothy even when he’s distressed to figure out about the young nun’s death. “Watching us from heaven as an angel, smiling at us. She’s much far away from the pain and sorrow of the short life and the crudely cold world.” Slight, rueful smile cradled her damp lips, drenching his plain shirt’s fabric with her own heavy rain of tears and liquid snots as a luxurious waterfall, cascading her nostrils. “Of course, I’m forgiving you and it wasn’t your fault at all! The devil made you to do many atrocious things which you’d never do. Please, don’t cry, my rare bird! Everything will be okay.”

“I was weak! I did many atrocious things which were impulsive and the devil made me to do. I’m his weakness.”

“You mustn’t pressure yourself anymore. Everything is over. The devil left your body and you aren’t and you’ll never be capable of using the supernatural power that you’re granted back then.” He released her from the hug by snatching gingerly without her knowledge in his beige slacks for the crimson velvet miniature box to propose her in the least predictable moment especially when she doesn’t expect it and to hear the silence of the former nun. “And it’s impossible for me to abandon you after everything you’ve been through these months. You’re pregnant with our and three of a kind unborn children, which I can’t wait to embrace them by hugging, kissing them and telling them how much I love them more than anything.”

“Yar just a blinded fool in love, Timothy! That’s what I can tell ya.”

“A fool in love with you, my rara avis!” All of a sudden, he got from the bed by kneeling beside her with a crimson velvet compact box even for the most distinctive eye. Her both elvish, secure hands muffled another sob in joy, whilst ogling in awe the miniature crimson velvet box with the proposal pearly moonstone ring. “Judy Martin,”

“T-Timothy, have ya completely lost yar mind?” Mumble accentuated her posed question incredulously as she could hardly believe it was the reality. Initially, the former devotional sister of the church thought she’s dreaming and the proposal, the forgiveness were just dreams where she’d wake up one day with unconditional, bittersweet disappointment for not being real at all.

“No! Let me finish, sweetheart!” Velvety retaliation curled his lips. “Judy Martin, my one of a kind rare bird, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on since the first moment, my only universe and world that I actually live, the most beaming and stunning smile that has been ever worn on its lips. I’m the luckiest and happiest man you’ve ever made. You just make me smile for unknown reason every time whenever I see you or hear your spectacular voice. I think I’m hearing really a bird singing to me every time whenever you speak.” In the interval, the blonde melted in awe at his proposal, biting her lip reluctantly. “Judy, my rara avis, will you marry me until the death apart us?”

“How to not marry ya, Timothy! Of course, I’ll! How long I’ve awaited up to this moment to happen.” She got from the bed by throwing her pudgy, satin arms around him, snuggling into him after slipping the proposal ring on her finger. “Please, don’t tell me, I’m dreaming!”

“You aren’t dreaming, my rara avis, of course! Do you know how much I regret for not proposing you much earlier?” Her parchment, still young-looking complexion was buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling inwardly, featherly the cologne, besprinkling his neck, attempting to not get so far with everything else. “For not leaving the church much earlier since I figured out how foolishly I was in love with you and escaping far away from Boston.”

“At least, it is better later than never, darling!” Wryly hoarse chuckle clicked the roof of her mouth. “I’m so happy to spend the eternity with you especially here.”

\--- ******* \---

\--- _1 Month Later_ \---

\--- _5 th of May, 1965_ \---

A month later and lastly the day that the both former members of the church have agitatedly awaited with ginormous impatience has arrived. In the past month, Jude and Timothy have made their final wedding plans by holding a private wedding where nobody else is going to attend as a guest since they weren’t keen fans of the big crowds and they’re introverts. Further, they’ve eventually planned their honeymoon which is going to take its place within a week after their wedding ceremony to visit Manitoba for a straight week. Despite the common chilly climate of Canada, they’d rather prefer it to the lethal insufferable climate of southern countries or states during the wee days of May where the temperatures outnumbered than twenty and something.

Whilst the British aristocrat was getting dressed up in the other bedroom, in fact, his wedding costume was splashed, in order to not delineated with any tracks of crumples, Jude was in the second bedroom by applying make-up, seating on the dressing table and primping in her spare time just an hour before the wedding ceremony, that’s going to be held in the nearest local church of Maine. Melodious, hedonic honeyed hum buzzed her peachy pink painted lips, whilst applying the lily-white eye shadows on her upper eyelids warily without spoiling her wedding make-up.

The both former pious members of the church have been awake for a few hours by spending the entire morning in a breakfast, afterwards cleaning after themselves and getting ready for the wedlock ceremony. The soft, agitated heart beats drummed in a choir in her ribs cage. In the meantime, the Bostonian’s chubbier petite-frame was clad in a floor length with satin hem and long satin sleeves ivory-coloured wedding gown with boat neckline, embellished with moonstones the neckline, itself. Elegantly enveloped belt adorned the waistline of the gown as a fantastic addition. Wedding blusher fishnet veil veiled her braided in French braid armor, bearing a semblance of a sheer angel. Pearly white classy stilettos shielded her petite feet.

“Are you ready, Jude?” All of a sudden, Timothy pushed the ajar opened bedroom door, setting a foot as his oxford clicked against the carpeted flooring gently. His tall, masculine figure was reflected on the dressing table’s mirror as a silhouette, casted backward on foot proximity with the blonde.

“Almost!” Her eye shadow brush powdered the light filter on her eyelids by fluttering them shut consciously. Content, radiant smile crawled on her pale as ghost complexion.

“Oh! But you look stunning, my rara avis!” He ambled up to her by reaching his both mammoth, amusingly warm hands to massage gingerly her shoulders without distracting her to spoil her make-up. “You’re just perfection into my eyes.”

“Aww, really?” Girlishly sheepish chuckle clicked her tongue as her cheeks tinted sanguinely. “Thank ya! So as yar astonishingly handsome, honey!”

“I’ve always waited with huge impatience up to today, you know.”

“So as do I but ya have been always the sweetest.” Meantime, his berry-coloured, soft as velvet lips pecked a kiss on the nape of her delicate, pale neck, molting into the neck kiss.

\--- ******* \---

\--- _An Hour Later or So_ \---

Shortly after the future wed couple arrived in the local church where they’re about to hold a private wedlock ceremony, the senior priest was already with them and finished with his bland canticles which were an absolute waste of time for Timothy and Jude. They were eager when the holy man commenced with the epilogue part. Asking them whether if they’re going to marry one another.

“Do you take Timothy Howard as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you take Judy Martin as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward,” Whilst the priest was in his mid-sentence, it abided unfinished, due to the fact, the younger man cut him off, whereas squeezing his rare bird’s hand into his larger, protective, knotting their fingers in the squeeze. They looked up at one another’s eyes with pure love, warmness, lust and desire.

“Yes, I do!”

“You may kiss the bride.” At the moment, Jude’s both alabaster arms snaked around his shoulders, pulling him in a warm, tight hug, sealing his baby pinkish lips with hers in a hardening, steamy kiss, as a beginning of the opened chapter.

\--- ******* \---

\--- _2 Hours or So_ \---

“W-What is that kind of a surprise?” In the meanwhile, the younger man got from the vehicle after driving his contemporary and sole wife to the lake by strolling up to the other side of the parked vehicle, in order to open her door and lift her up in a bridal lift up to the desolated, nevertheless, still firm wooden bench.

“I told you, Jude! The surprises are the sweetest when they just happen, instead of keep wondering.” One of his muscular, strong arms was under her inner thighs, whereas the other one curled underneath her upper back, nudging the cab’s door by scooting up to the bench, sniggering jubilantly altogether by marking a new part of their lives or rather opening a new chapter in their lives. “But tonight we will have a barbecue night in the yard, you know.”

“With some vanilla fries and grilled meat.” Her both arms clasped his shoulders, poising to not being dropped.

“And some white wine, of course!”

“Don’t be so crazy with these weird combinations of beverages and food!” She swatted his thigh playfully, whereas the older lady seated on his lap, contemplating the sheening with its dispersing aureate sunlight light, mirroring the sunrays in the mistiness of the crystal clear lake. “I’d rather replace the white wine with some beer.”

“We have beer, don’t worry!” The British aristocrat assured her.

“But I’ve to confess the lake is incredibly breathtaking today.”

“Not as much as you, rara avis!”

“Awww!” In the interval, his delicate nose tip nuzzled her wedding gown’s satin fabric, admiring its softness mitigating his facial skin.


	7. Mama, I'm Coming Home

**Author's Note: The chapter's name is based on Ozzy Osbourne's song Mama, I'm Coming Home. That's another Nunsignor story where I made them with children though I took a vow to write about them once childless or with foster children. Anyway I hope you like and enjoy this chapter! :))**

\--- ******* \---

\--- _3 Months Later_ \---

\--- _5 th of August, 1965_ \---

A week after the wedlock ceremony, the already married couple had a lovely honeymoon in Manitoba. Nevertheless, the incessant back pains and the drastic weight gain were crucial issues in the former sister of the church. How many times she could complain and whimper the plea in soreful pain and it was recurring?

It was already three o’clock in the wee days of August balmy summer, hovering over Maine. The nocturnal sky was adorned with a luxurious beehive of incessantly shimmering straw-yellow stars, outnumbering the sole round, full alabaster moon that was smiling with its moonlight that gleamed below. Everything didn’t seem to die as a nocturnal episodical fragment of the ordinary three o’clock timeline.

The both former members of the clergy were already sleep since a couple of hours especially Jude, factly, the final trimester of her pregnancy was agonizing to bones, stiffing her bones and muscles without being able to relax for a single second. Thinking twice of the recurring pain that wasn’t oblivious for months and reckoning the extra weight she’s put on each body part of hers from her arms down to her calves which were once bony.

Peace floated in the background. Light, muffled snores as emitted dim muted the crickets’ vespertine song, encircling the two-story cottage.

All of a sudden, a violent contraction muted the triplets’ vehement kicks in her bump, catching her off guard and allowing her the silence to hear her roar:

“Arghhhh! Fuck!” The blonde clutch tightly her shut eyelids, bleating in soreful, unbearable pain due to the contraction, nudging accidentally her husband as he came to his senses instantly, quirking a thick, dark eyebrow by managing to scratch uneasily the generous layer of perspiration, veiling his forehead with his small fingernails.

“J-Jude, are you alright, my love?” In the meanwhile, the British compatriot curled a strong, muscly arm around her waist until she withdrew, growling aggressively baleful, shooting a baleful glare with gritted ivory teeth at him.

“Please, don’t touch me! I think it’s coming.”

“The baby?” At the moment, the middle-aged woman unwrapped the silken emerald green blanket from her frail skeleton by propping on the bed railing, whilst resting her solely free elvish, creamy as baby skin, in order to flee to the en-suite bathroom to clean herself.

Silence arched between the both adults except another shrilling whimper floated from the former nun’s rosy-coloured, dry lips, ducking her head on her way to the en-suite bathroom.

“Rare bird, tell me!” The former devotional man of the cloth insisted for her reply, in spite of her hush, amalgamated with bewilderment.

Shortly after the blonde entered in the bathroom by leaving it ajar opened, she attempted to seat on the toilet seat sluggishly, allowing herself to flush its urine, panting breathlessly until she finished by flushing the toilet water and scrubbed with honey soap up to her wrists with rich layer of foam for a half a minute. The running jet water of the turned faucet’s sink swilling the honey, palish bubbles. Relishing the hedonistic paroxysm that pumped into her brittle bones and skeletal anatomy. Thereafter the middle-aged lady daubed her pair of hands on the dry bath towel until another violent contraction mortified her.

“Jesus Christ! Not again.”

“Is the baby coming?” In the interval, the younger man hopped up from the king-sized bed by scurrying up to the ajar opened door as his cocoa brown orbs, fueled with criminal concern and panic dappled blanched as it’s the warmest cocoa froze, losing its genuine vibrant color landed on the petite-frame that was curled in a ball, resting her both hands on the bump, sobbing quietly to herself.

“I think my water just broke.” Meantime, the former holy man crouched down against his wife by resting one of his mammoth, secure hands on her bump, whereas his other muscular arm dangled around her waist, emboldening her to get from the tiled flooring and guiding her to the king-sized bed.

“Don’t worry, my rare bird! I promise I’ll call the ambulance in a jiffy.”

As soon as they fled the en-suite bathroom, the blonde bleated bland protests until she laid on the double bed, spreading widely her legs, ignoring Timothy’s words by squeezing tightly sufficiently tightly by leaving inflammatory fingers of the grasp, belting his wrist.

“I don’t care if I give a birth here or in the hospital but the triplets are coming.”

“Jude, I can’t leave you here giving a birth to our rays of sunshine at home! You must be driven to the hospital extremely soon.” Meanwhile, the once holy priest was seating on the edge of the bed, tucking a fistful long gilded tresses behind her petite, sensitive ear, shushing alleviatingly to her, in order to subdue her sobs. The tad of his thumb daubed the twin fat swarm of tears that shaped a rivulet across her lower eyelids, trickling down as salty heavy rain. His fingers knotted hers in an envelop.

“I don’t give a shit, asshole! It’s yar fault I should give a birth here. Right here.” The older woman cleared her throat gruffily, flushing a heavy sigh from her constricted chest. “Right on this bed!”

“So that’s why the better place for laboring is in the hospital.”

“Think twice! It’s too late.” The former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer nagged at him, baring her ivory, still firm for her age teeth as a ferocious beast.

“When you’re ready to push, tell me right away, okay?” Vaguely optimistic, consoling smile smeared across his pale-pinkish lips, encouragingly pecking an affectionate, feather kiss on her temple. His colossal, protective hand massaged her upper back to subdue the pressure. Meek bob in strong agreement affirmed his words. “Good!”

When the blonde started with the pushes during the agitating contractions, she cried out loud, whereas her petite, milky as lily hand squeezed firmly, restlessly his. From time to time or rather with each push, the former ambitious Monsignor checked her progress with the gradually crowned triplets’ heads that emerged from her entrance underneath her short conveniently cotton oyster-white slip, hugging her pudgy figure.

“You are doing a brilliant job, my rara avis! A few more pushes.”

“I-I can’t.” Her head collapsed on the cotton blanket, whining in defeatist manner, nibbling on the silken skin of her lower lip. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Of course, you can, Jude! I truly believe in you can do it.” Breathless pants floated from the top of her fragile lungs, incapable of catching any modicum of breath for a single second. “You’re incredibly strong woman and never say you can’t do it, because, of course, you can do it.”

“Just for goddamn sake help me, instead of talk talk talk, Monsignor!” Even when vexation and angst brewed and cooked inside her, her rosy-coloured, cherub lips parted in the scoff by addressing him with his former ecclesiastical title he worn.

After a handful of pushes within an hour, the triplets emerged in the world in the same time as symphony of newborns boated in the background by swaddling every infant in a warm cloth, handing the newborn girl and boy, whereas the second girl was in his father’s protective, doting arms.

“Hello, my sweet angels! Here ya are finally.” Each triplet had the same skin tone. All fair and alabaster. Nonetheless, the both girls’ hair texture differed from one another. Two of the nameless infants had curly hair texture just like the former pious sister of the church, whereas only one girl had as straight as her father’s. The unnamed boy and the baby girl with the wavy hair texture’s hair colors were actually sheerly chestnut unlike the sole one, who was purely blond like her mother. The both girls had chocolate brown pools, filled with pure love, innocence and childlike warmness, oozing of them, whereas the sole boy triplet had caramel brown like the former sleazy nightclub singer. They gravely, eerily alook like their parents by inheriting their prominently enchanting facial traits even smiles, frowns and pouts.

Jubilant, girlish giggle escaped her throat, whilst having the initial opportunity to hold her both triplets in the scooped warm, maternally doting embrace, rocking them to subdue their high-pitched cries.

“I’m so proud of you, my love! They’re fascinatingly beautiful.” In the interim, the former holy man turned to Jude, whilst rocking the sole girl that was into his arms, offering her a benevolent, content smile, flexing his well-defined jaw line. “Look at that button nose of yours, my ray of sunshine!” A handful of fingers pinched playfully, lovingly one of his daughters’ button nose, replacing it within seconds with a delicate peck on her nose tip as she giggled.

“So as they’re fascinatingly beautiful as their Daddy.” The older lady emphasized, caressing gingerly, lightly the nameless newborns’ sparse hairs. “Darling?”

“Huh? Yes, my rare bird?”

“Have ya thought of how to name our beautiful angels?”

“Well,” Cheerful, hoarse chuckle clicked the roof of his mouth by lowering his cocoa brown irises in awe at the blond newborn baby girl. “This blond angel which is mini Judy is going to be Skyler Autumn.”

“That’s a fantastic name! I totally agree with ya.” The Bostonian bobbed her head in strong agreement, being fond of the name Skyler Autumn for the sole blonde triplet as their new family members which were welcomed just a few minutes ago in the Howards’ family. “How about naming these cherub angels Cindy and Jalen Snow?”

“I really like these lovely names for them.” At the moment, they spent the entire wee hours of the morning by baby talking and lingering with their newborn triplets as a handful of hours later the former devotional woman of the cloth fell asleep due to the severe exhaustion after giving a birth not just only one child, but to triplets. Whilst Judy was soundly asleep, Timothy washed every newborn baby in the en-suite bathroom and putting them to slumber until their mother is awake to feed them.


	8. Happiness

**Author's Note: The 8th chapter is based on Three Days Grace's song Happiness, subsequently naming it after the chapter. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. :))**

\--- ******* \---

\--- _7 Months Later_ \---

\--- _7 th of March, 1966_ \---

It has been seven months since the triplets have emerged fortunately in the world perfectly healthy. Seven months of sheer happiness. Seven months of the beginning of their discovery of their small family world. A few months of isolation from the real world by dipping themselves in the depths of the crude, cold world that encircled them.

The former devotional man of the cloth was still working as a Latin teacher in high school, although sometimes he came back at home with mild irritation which quickly petered out, due to Cindy, Jalen Snow, Skyler Autumn and his wife Judy. As usually, he came back from teaching at school with a smile that glimmered thousands of radiant brands. The quantity of time he worked in school as a teacher was sufficiently satisfying by entertaining the students with his own personal stories by teaching them a lesson and giving them abundance of advices, besides teaching them properly even with his small quantity of experience as a teacher. Furthermore, from time to time Jude paid a visit to his classes along with their triplets or she’s waiting for him to finish his classes so that to go home altogether. The children really loved him and they quickly became fond of him and vice versa.

Further, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer told to Timothy everything about her grim past. From the injured hit-and-run victim little girl with the blue coat up to her former fiancé Casey. Although her prejudices, Timothy embraced the trials she’s been through a few decades ago and his love for her grew even more by giving her a prompt to not focus on the past and move on in the present and future.

In spite of the British compatriot having a job and spending a half a day in the week days outside their cottage, anyway the Bostonian preferred to stay at home since she was on fire with looking after the triplets, cooking, gardening and cleaning. Last but not least, they were far from unlucky to be exceedingly wealthy so that either of them being employed.

For seven months, neither Skyler and Cindy, nor Jalen have spoken a single word. They only babbled and cooed even giggled.

Whilst the British aristocrat was having his third class Latin with ninth graders, they pleasantly surprised him since today was his birthday and he was getting along with them and the adolescents especially once he entered in the class room.

“Happy Birthday, Mr. Howard!” All students have already gotten from their seats, factly, they respected their Latin teacher as the giant present they got for him was on the last desk in the middle column, roaring jubilant in a choir as if they chanted an opera.

“Good day, students!” Cheerfully mesmerized smile parted upon his pale-pinkish, soft as satin lips as his cocoa brown orbs, dappled with luxurious patterns of sheer felicity glittered in awe how they’re well organized to start their current class. “That’s so kind of you, but it wasn’t your obligation at all.” Although their childlike goodwill and their mutual platonic love as a student-teacher relationship, he was deeply touched by their selfless natures and it was slightly uncomfortable for him. Light, cherry texture powdered his cheeks with mild balmy heat, whilst Chloe and Amber ambled up to the giant present, heaving it from the last hardwood desk by approaching the teacher’s bureau, in order to deliver the present to their favorite teacher.

Chloe and Amber were very fond of one another since they’re friends since their early childhood. First and foremost, they were donned in strict school uniforms, whereas Chloe had a French braided auburn braid on the left shoulder, framing ideally her round, vaguely chubby profile with her astonishingly childlike innocent emerald green pools and fair skin tone. She wasn’t tall at all. She stood only 5’4 unlike her childhood friend Amber.

Amber was a young lady with olive-tanned skin tone and tied in austerely coiffed high chestnut bun with crystalline blue pools, mottled with palish textures of warmness and benevolence. The brunette was taller than Chloe by standing 5’7, ideally matching with her slender structured figure.

“No need to complain, Mr. Howard!” The both young ladies handed the present to Timothy as he laid it on the bureau, unwrapping its envelop by ushering the students to take their seats and he was observed by twenty adolescents’ inquisitive eyes, darted to him and eager to survey his reaction once the British aristocrat sees his own birthday gift. “It would be disrespectful if we didn’t organize all this before this Latin class.”

“I truly appreciate your kindness,” All of a sudden, pause tugged his tongue, whilst his chocolate brown irises widened at the folded grandiose pale green tent they gave him by gathering altogether some money. “I’m surprised at your kindness was wonders are doing, kids.”

“But you really like the nature and hiking around the nature, don’t you, Mister?” The auburn-haired teenager posed the question rhetorically.

“Of course, Chloe! For which I’m grateful to have a present from the entire class right today.”

“It’s not only this, Mr. Howard! There is also a card for you.” His pristinely long as piano keys fingers clumsily fiddled the card along with the folded tent for camping. “It’s from the whole class.”

“Let me read it.” His attention shifted to the card by flipping the page, in order to peruse it attentively, his fingers tipping gingerly the paper.

_Happy Birthday Mr. Howard,_

_Thank you for being with us for almost a whole school year, no matter how noisy and disobedient we could be sometimes or showing your darker side!_

_You’ve been among the fewest teachers that have tolerance towards adolescents and taught us many interesting facts not only as an experience from your life, but also curious facts and being the reason for our laughters and smiles every class. You’re among the fewest teachers that understand the younger generation what is being through and you know how exactly to motivate the students to study, despite your wee teaching experience. You’re amidst the fewest teachers that genuinely teach us with love and treat us as your own children and family even when you’re a family man with 3 lovely children and spectacular wife._

_Even if there are some students, who don’t have a huge enthusiasm to study Latin, you always turn it in a fun class instead of a nightmare as much as Math and Science classes._

_We would like to thank from the bottom of our hearts for your tolerance, patience, chaste and love, because we love you too!_

_Wishing you the best, Mr. Howard_

“Aww, that’s incredibly sweet of you, kids!” Meantime, he shifted his gaze to the horde of fifteen-year-old students as a few of them chuckled quietly to themselves. Warmness stabbed his chest as a thick rivulet of gore bled from the thickness of the slit, feeling profound touched by their benevolence and platonic love they’d for him as a teacher. “You know how much I love you too!”

\--- ******* \---

\--- _Later that Day_ \---

“Rare bird, I’m home!” In the meantime, the former pious man of the cloth got from school by kicking off his shoes after setting a foot in the corridor and taking off his blazer from his frail skeleton, hanging it on the coat hanger by leaving the suitcase, filled with the folded tent, cards from the classes he had today. Beamingly content smile flexed his jaw line, whereas the blonde was in the kitchen with the triplets, who were sitting in their high chairs after being breastfeed and the middle-aged woman was zapping in the oven their favorite. Coq-au-vin.

No response, no action was followed by his exclaimation by sneaking with his birthday presents in the kitchen, while the former licentious nightclub singer was washing the rich foam that baptized up to her wrists her elvish hands, swaying her hips and humming in soft, mellow voice as her husband’s voice was oblivious, due to the running jet water of the kitchen sink.

“Dada!” Jalen and Cindy exclaimed in unison after beholding the younger man tiptoeing in the kitchen until the faucet was turned off and the jet water ebbed out, drawing promptly the both parents’ attentions. In the meanwhile, the middle-aged woman turned to face the younger man, giggling girlishly, sheepishly as she was caught off guard.

“Hi sweethearts!” What it was profoundly bizarre was that Skyler hasn’t pelt a single word except babbles and cooing escaped her plumpish lips.

“Oh shit! Sorry for not hearing ya a few moments ago, honey!” He left his birthday present and cards on one of the chairs. “I was just washing my hands and humming.”

“It’s okay, rara avis. You shouldn’t be sorry at all.” Optimism antagonized her realistic pessimism as two monstrously potent gladiators, fighting for dominance to pass the next round without being defeated. “I think Jalen and Cindy just spoke their first words.” Hoarse, mirthful chuckle clicked the roof of his mouth as he was beyond mesmerized how one of his daughters and his sole son spoke their very first word right on the seventh month of their fresh life. In the interval, the middle-aged lady joined him, backing him up in solemn agreement.

“Oh really? What is their first word?”

“Mama!” The both triplets babbled their first word as a smug grin bloomed across her naturally rosy-coloured, cherub lips, building her lotus-eating glee, oozing of her.

“Dada actually!” It was the former holy man, who corrected the brunettes.

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” The former sleazy jazz nightclub singer tucked absently a fistful of long stray gilded strands behind her petite, sensitive ear, whereas Timothy peppered the infants’ chubby cheeks with affectionate, paternally doting kisses as they molted into them, thereafter stroking gently, dotingly their sparse hairs. “How about miss Skyler Autumn?”

“Skyler?” Wryly dark snicker scratched the end of his throat by sealing his baby pinkish, damp lips with his wife’s lips in a hardening, resiliently silencing sultry kiss, cupping her cheeks in the palms of his featherly soft as cotton candy, friendly warm hands, smearing natural warmness. Looking up at one another’s eyes with pure love, warmness, desire and lust. “She said nothing.”

“Nothing?” Bewilderment contoured exquisitely the quirk of her thin, elegant eyebrow at his utterance, whereas he bobbed in a nod. “Well, it’s never too late Miss Skyler Autumn to say anything. She’s still young.”

“You look so beautiful, Jude!”

“Aw, really? I do look nothing with a greasy hair that I haven’t washed for three straight days, without any make-up and wearing all these plain clothes at home.” Temporal silence caught them off guard until the blonde girl struggled to babble a syllable of her first ever word. The both adults’ attentions were drifted up to the blond triplet.

“S-S.”

“Ya still find the greasy hairs, the bareness and plain clothes all beautiful? Have ya completely lost yar mind?”

“I haven’t completely lost my mind. No matter if you wear the trashiest clothes or your hairs grow white, I’ll still love you and you’re still the most beautiful woman into my eyes.”

“Ya have been always the sweetest!” At the moment, the both former member of the clergy rested his forehead against hers. “What the kids gave ya for yar birthday, sweetie?”

“A tent for camping and a couple of cards from the classes I had today not only with the 9th graders.”

“That’s tremendously sweet of them!”

“S-Shit!” All of a sudden, the blond baby girl just pelt a word, earning her parents’ mortified looks.

“Who taught you this word, honey?” Meantime, Timothy stroke lovingly Skyler’s head with his delicate fingers.

“Mama!” She pointed directly at her mother with a forefinger as the once holy priest shifted his stare to his right hand.

“Jude, is that true?”

“I was just startled when ya came here and,” Embarrassingly sardonic giggle floated from her lips. “And I didn’t know Miss Skyler Autumn is going to be that sly.”


	9. Sweetest Thing

**Author's Note: The 9th chapter is based on the song Sweetest Thing by U2 which can be found on the Spotify list of this short musical book. I hope you like and enjoy it! :)**

\--- ******* \---

\--- _A Few Years Later_ \---

\--- _15 th of October, 1968_ \---

2 years have passed since the triplets Skyler Autumn, Cindy and Jolan Snow have grew drastically as they commenced attending regularly kindergarten, in fact, they’re already three-year-old infants.

What it immensely distressed the both former members of the clergy was that how their triplets significantly grew for the last three years of their fresh lives by getting bigger, developing fluently their vocabulary and about to begin their journey in the kindergarten by socializing with their peers and play with them. Eventually Jude and Timothy missed the old times when their rays of sunshine were younger and being able to spend more time all day even when Timothy was a Latin teacher in high school.

It was mid-October as the weather in Maine was chilly. Exemplary for the autumn. The days were rainy and cloudy as usually. The rich swarm of crispy, multicoloured leaves was tumbling from the grand trees by baring its branches that shaped a swanky crown, consequently carpeting luxuriously the ground with its crunchy carpet of autumn leaves.

Whilst the former pious man of the cloth was raking the rich pile of leaves in the yard, allowing the light autumn zephyr fanning his chestnut hair and his parchment, youthful complexion, the Bostonian was in the kitchen, baking in the oven apple scones, whereas her frail skeleton was clad in a plain lily-white apron as an armor in the kitchen against staining her garments. Her hips swayed in the low hum of the radio, relishing the music’s rhythm, floating in the background as a sheer distraction.

In the meanwhile, the sound of opening door amalgamated with the low humming of the plugged radio, thereafter the door was slammed, resulting the former priest finishing his task with raking the leaves in the yard and tiptoeing up to the kitchen, in order to surprise his right hand. His resiliently hushing, masculine footsteps journeyed up to the petite frame. Oblivion of not being alone submerged the middle-aged woman, whose caramel brown pools scanned the oven’s remaining time until the scones baked at last. Approximately a half an hour until they were fully baked as well. A beaming, smug smile flexed her jaw line as its facial muscles brushed her skull, cherishing the presciousness of flexing her facial muscles which weren’t numbering frowning.

When Timothy was in front of his wife, he snuck his both strong, muscular arms around her waist as she flinched at first, baring her teeth to restrain a whimper. Her hazelish-brown orbs widened at the suddenness of the snaked arms circa her waist. In the interval, he nuzzled the nape of her neck lovingly.

“Oh, I didn’t think yar about to finish too soon with raking the leaves in the yard, Timothy!” The middle-aged woman’s hoarseness in her emphasis didn’t fade, whilst one of his mammoth, amusingly warm hands managed to reach for her low messy bun by untying it, releasing a rich cataract of glossy old Hollywood gilt curls, piling up on her shoulders by exquisitely framing her round, porcelain profile. His nose tip delicately nuzzled the delicate skin of her nape of her neck after pushing on one side the cataract of silky gilt tresses on her shoulder, inhaling inwardly the alluring cologne of gardenia, waffling across his nostrils. Her heart raced in acceleration. “What are ya doing?” The huskiness in her chuckle clicked her tongue, unable to fade it right away.

“Mmm! You’ve a delicious smell, you know.” The tremendous, succumbing distraction in the luxurious aroma of gardenia, afterwards pecking a feather kiss on the nape of her neck’s epidermis as electrifying goosebumps prickled all over her epidermis from head to toes. “Your hair has always been a distraction with its rich aroma and everything about you.”

“Yar just foolishly in love, I’ll repeat myself once again.” She turned to face him, giggling girlishly by chewing on her lower plumpish lip. “The apple scones will be already ready in a half an hour to assure ya.”

“That’s good! But they can wait.” One of his colossal, veiny hands raked the wild, honey curls through his fingers, twirling them like spaghettis, leaning to rest his forehead against hers without averting his transfixed ogle on hers. Her spine reclined on the countertop as his solely free hand reached for her apron, untying it by tossing it carelessly on the cooker.

“Timothy?”

“Huh, my rare bird?”

“I’m still wondering how ya still forgave me for murdering Mary Eunice, raping ya and so forth. Moreover, this possession got me secretly pregnant,” She nibbled on the silken skin of her lower rosy-coloured lip bashfully, seductively. “Even when I couldn’t bare my own baby and,” The blonde gulped hard at her own words, heaving a heavy sigh from her chest as severe ounce. “And the red slip I wore for ya under my habit is a part of my past life when I was a whore. I’m just,” All of a sudden, the British aristocrat cut her off curtly.

“Don’t pressure yourself, rare bird! It’s the past and if you’re about to associate the red slip with your past life, you aren’t an old whore and this red slip is so precious, because, to be honest, I don’t regret when you took my virtue even when you were possessed.”

“You don’t regret?” Meantime, the older woman emphasized her inquiry, quirking an eyebrow, whereas the younger man bobbed his head in a solemn agreement, wedging his pale-pinkish lips in an attentive purse. “But I can’t still believe how I got magically pregnant and graced ya with triplets in the same time.”

“You rather graced both of us with triplets and you’re not the only one, who had a struggle to get away with a murder.” His fingers cradled the graceful shape of her chin, tilting her head, whereas his solely free hand’s fingers tucked dotingly fistful of stray long strands behind her ear by playing with them absent-mindedly. “I killed Shelley, while you Mary Eunice. I still don’t judge you, because it wasn’t your fault at all.”

“I know and everything is fine.” Muffled whisper almost died on her tongue tip, cupping his cheeks in the palms of her petite, secure hands, tracing with the tad of thumbs his well-defined cheekbones.

“Moreover, even if you weren’t possessed and you haven’t graced us with these wonderful triplets, I’d be still happy to be with you just as a lovely couple,” He muffled his warm breath that softly fanned her facial epidermis. “Because my priorities were never to find the perfect, beautiful and young woman even to have my own family once I joined the church. But here we are as we met one day and you’re everything and the only thing I need.”

In the meanwhile, she slowly but surely captured his berry-coloured, soft as satin lips in a hardening, sultry kiss, fluttering shut their eyelids by melting in the sultry kiss. Meanwhile, her both hands slithered up to his dark hair, playing with it, whilst his both hands slithered downward to her waist, squeezing it in its grip. As their kisses grew ferocious, their wet, berry-coloured tongues commenced dueling each other and the former holy man heaved Jude by grabbing her for the buttocks, laying her on the countertop. In the interim, her both lean, long as towers legs clasped around his waist as his palms squashed the roundness of her small, well-shaped peachy buttocks. Throughout she plugged her tongue into his mouth, deepening into a French kiss as his front ivory, still firm for his age teeth chewed on her lower lip.

As soon as they undressed slowly themselves by getting rid off the burdening attires which were discarded bluntly on the tiled kitchen floor, the former ambitious Monsignor’s hands ran all over her petite frame, relishing the mossy alabaster of her figure and her slender curves which were elegantly contoured in its attires and lingerie. Suddenly his long as flute stings fingers peaked downward to her unshaved pubic hair by gliding them delicately, sensually through the thick, dark wire of pubic hair until his fingertips met her mauve swollen bud, massaging it on circles.

“Oh fucking Christ! Don’t stop!” His fingers diligently worked on the bundle of nerves, cocking back her head and ignoring the ultimate control of her strong language that was vomited in the float. Her heart beats pulsated into her ears. Loud moans and groans of immense pleasure immersed the pit of her stomach with warmness and pleasure by skidding down her lower abdomen, fueling her untouched areas for almost a week. Her toes curled up. At the moment, she ran her delicate hands all over his toned torso, admiring its masculinity and muscular anatomy. “Yar astonishing.” Thus, her hands reached for her round breasts, pawing them as the palms pressed her mauve erected nipples.

After teasing with a handful of fingers her swollen bud, a thumb kneaded on circles its hard clit by leaning to nibble it technically with his teeth, savoring its firmness between his teeth as a ferocious beast.

“Oh sweet Jesus! Yar the best. I want yar tongue tasting my juices as they linger on it.” Her fingers combed his dark hair, relishing its natural softness. Thereafter his tongue glided from her hard clit downward to her core, plugging it inside by savoring her juices that laced his wet tongue, cupping her widely spread hips, giving him a better access. “Oh fucking God!” Shrilling moans and groans boated in the kitchen as the low humming radio was oblivious for the couple. “Eat me out!”

After he finished with teasing her core with a tongue and digging his small fingernails in her inner thighs, admiring the alabaster delicateness of her flesh, she positioned his member at her core, yearning their sexes to unite.

“Start slower.” The former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer after guided his erected member at her core, her both elvish, smooth hands clawed his muscly, broad shoulders as her legs were wrapped around his waist. They took their time to admire one another’s enchanting facial features, seconds before synchronizing the pace. One of his hands squeezed her pelvis, whereas his other one cupped her cheek in the palm of his creamy hand. “I want to feel ya.” Her drenching folds’ walls contracted his cock.

Initially, the thrusts were sorely painful and slow until they escalated to swifter and less painful, emanating the splashing skins they contacted in unison. The former sister of the church rotated her hips, dragging her manicured in ravishing red, long fingernails from his shoulders all over his muscly back, leaving tracks of scraps and welts. Their moans and groans swam in the background as angelic anthems. In the meanwhile, one of his hands managed to cup the roundness, slight limp breast.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop!” The middle-aged lady didn’t pay any attention to her cussing, cocking back her head in unconditional pleasure.

“You’re so tight!” At the moment, he bended to pepper the crook of her palish, sensitive neck’s skin with light, loving kisses until they escalated to aggressive, nipping its delicateness of her skin, suckling it.

Their climaxes were approaching within a few more thrusts which were slower until the former man of the cloth collapsed on top of his wife’s chest, breathlessly panting as their hearts vehemently drummed in their ribcage.

Their lips were sealed in a breathlessly steamy kiss which wasn’t hardening.

“I love you very much, darling!”

“I love you way more than anything in this world, my rara avis!”


	10. Summer of '69

**Author's Note: The final chapter of this short book is based on the song Summer of '69 by Bryan Adams. I know how distressing is to end this short musical book, nevertheless, it was so fun writing it.**

**I hope you like and enjoy this chapter! :))**

\--- ******* \---

\--- _10 Months Later_ \---

\--- _14 th of August, 1969_ \---

Skyler Autumn, Jolan Snow and Cindy turned four-year-old children almost ten days ago as they got significantly bigger and grew in the past ten months of their fresh life.

The balmy summer in Maine was elatingly relaxing with the beaming sun, pelting down its saturating, scintillating sun rays by bathing in natural sun light as a balmy blanket the Maine’s outskirts, bundling it in summer’s climate that smiled with its entire radiance. The sky wasn’t overcrowded with a luxurious swarm of clouds, keeping the general population’s wits about the forthcoming storm and rain in mid-August.

It was Jude’s turn to pick up the triplets from the kindergarten, whereas her husband was at school where he was teaching, in fact, the teachers were busy for a few hours during the summer holidays.

Whilst the middle-aged lady’s classy chunks clicked against the ground, producing monotonous click in choir, it taunted Skyler and Jolan’s attentions in no time, whilst Cindy was absently opting to catch a flying butterfly in the crowded by kindergarteners yard and being supervised by their tutor.

“Mommy!” The blonde infant and the brunette scurried agitatedly up to the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer, wearing beamingly content smiles, smeared across their cherub lips. In the meanwhile, the former promiscuous nightclub singer crouched down to throw her alabaster arms around their frail skeletons, scooping them in a dotingly, maternally warm hug.

“Hi, my sunshines!” Her petite, smooth as baby skin hands cradled, stroking lovingly their soft hairs, admiring its crispy, fresh softness grazing her fingertips. “I missed you so much, Skyler and Jolan!”

“We either, Mommy!” Shortly after they broke off the embrace, the middle-aged woman peppered their chubby cheeks with tender kisses as they molted into them. “Where’s Daddy?” The sole boy triplet wondered where the once holy priest was, quirking his dark, thick eyebrow perplexedly.

“Daddy is at school. I’m sure he’s going to be at home very soon.” In the interval, her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as cotton candy lips grazed the tops of their heads with feather, doting kisses, stroking the softness of their hairs until her honey brown orbs, fueled with sheer love and warmness landed on the third infant, seizing her lips in a pensive purse. “Cindy!” The huskiness in whimpering her daughter’s name caught her off guard by shifting her attention to Judy, dashing up to her as radiant, mirthfully innocent thrived on her palish, childish face, filtered in saturation by the natural afternoon sunlight.

“Mommy! I missed you so much.”

“So as I do, honey!” After the middle-aged lady heaved the brunette female triplet into a scooped air embrace, emitting hoarsely jubilant giggles, clicking the roof of their mouths. “If ya wonder where Daddy is, as I told Sky and Jolan he’ll be right back very soon from school since he’s kinda busy even during the summer holidays,” Meantime, the juvenile brunette giggled, nuzzling with her nose tip the former holy woman’s button nose as they both rested their foreheads together in unison. “Ya know! Hey loves, don’t you want some ice-cream and to play on the playground on our way to home?”

“Why not?” Then she dropped warily Cindy on the ground as the triplets evoked out as if they’re in seventh heaven, eager to eat some ice-cream and play on the playground before going to home at last.

\--- ******* \---

\--- _A Quarter an Hour Later_ \---

On their way to the playground, the former sleazy nightclub singer bought chocolate ice-cream to Skyler, whereas strawberry and vanilla ones to the brunette triplets and sharing with one another their daily experience in the kindergarten and how their day passed.

As soon as they finished with masticating their ice-creams with their favorite flavors, they went to swing on the swings and slide on the slides. The playground wasn’t crowded with a beehive of children in the wee hours of the evening for Judy’s surprise. Their merry laughters and screams floated in the background with the richness of their childish euphoria, expressed as a lion roar.

Meantime, the Bostonian was seating on the wooden bench, supervising the children by jotting down in her diary her daily experience every day or every time she picks up her rays of sunshine from kindergarten. Low, eloquent hum buzzed her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips as an early morning birds’ twittering.

All of a sudden, the Latin teacher sat alongside her, drawing her attention promptly as she dropped unintentionally the pen once she felt she wasn’t alone with the children. It was her husband, Timothy!

“Hi darling!” The rich undertones of her husky jubilant snicker rang angelic anthems in the former man of the cloth’s ears as he yanked the discarded pen from the ground, consequently handing it to Jude politely. “Thank ya! I really missed ya.”

“So as I missed you too, my rare bird!” At the moment, his long as flute stings, delicate fingers tucked a couple of stray long curly strands behind her petite, sensitive ear, afterwards his fingers managed to trace delicately light her well-defined, lily-white cheek, admiring its facial skin softness and elegant contour of her facial features, sending shivers down her frail skeleton of paroxysm and pleasure. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I just wanted to do a little surprise for you.”

“It’s fine.” Her fidgety fingers absently played with the pen, resting her head on his muscly, broad shoulder. “How was yar day?” A strong, muscly arm curled around her waist. At the moment, the both former devotional members of the church’s attentions were drifted promptly to the playing triplets.

“It was well even though the teachers must be at school for some work during the summer holidays, which is obnoxious.”

“At least, it wasn’t teaching and yelling at some students.” Her rosy-coloured, soft as velvet lips parted in the scoff, without oppressing a husky, ironic chuckle.

“For sure especially if there are disobedient students. What about your day too, Jude?”

“Urm, I was at home the whole day and cleaning without relaxing for a single second! And then I picked up Skyler, Jolan and Cindy from the kindergarten by buying ice-cream for them and letting them to play.” The truth was nostalgia swamped the pit of the former holy woman’s stomach with its toxic, distressing liquid that chilled her lower abdomen and areas at the thought of spending her days home alone, whilst the children are already grown up enough to attend regularly kindergarten and make new friendships with their peers. First and foremost, the blonde missed the old days, when they were newborns even vulnerable toddlers just before signing them to attend the institution and spend less time together in the week days. She missed the old days of laughing with them after pinching playfully their noses. She missed the old days of the rooms’ flooring being flocked with galore of toys even plushy. She missed the old days when they went on hikes in the woods or circa the countryside altogether even went to surprise Timothy during his Latin classes. And instead, her days during the week were elapsing in cleaning, napping, cooking, gardening and in general, doing housework and distracting herself sometimes with listening to music on the vinyl record and dancing in its rhythm. Even the television was rarely turned by her to watch any television programs or news, factly, she considered them brainwashing except the news. “Sweetheart!” The middle-aged lady muffled a yawn with her only free hand, inhaling the amalgamating cologne of her husband and the summer’s fresh air.

“Yes, my rare bird?”

“I’ve to admit I missed the old good days, when our lovely cherub angels were younger and they didn’t say a single word except babbling and cooing cheerfully.”

“I missed those days either, my love!”

“But it’s unbelievable how quickly they grew up in the past four years.” Emphasis in hoarseness accentuated her utterance, biting her lower lip reluctantly as its ivory, yet firm for her age front teeth grazed the delicate skin of her lower plump lip, hardly scrapping it viciously. “They used to be as small as newborns and now, look at these rays of sunshine! They’re like,” The Bostonian could scarcely embrace the fact how quickly the children grow up through the weeks even the elapsing months, gulping hard a lump in her throat sluggishly. “They’re like, boom, almost pre-schoolers.”

“One day, they will grace us with grandchildren, believe me, rare bird! They will be the next generation of cuteness and happiness.” Optimism and realism antagonized one another by fusing along in his reassuring exclaimation.

“That’s about twenty and something years when I’ll be sixty and something, whilst ya will be in yar fifties.”

\--- ******* \---

\--- _Later that Night_ \---

The night approached way too soon than the expected. The nocturnal sky as its prospect once day tinged with vibrant hues of pink and yellow painted the sunset’s prospect, now somber nuances predominated in its photogenic summer night’s landscape. Swarm of millions of sheening marble stars hovered in the sky, outnumbering the sole, round, one of a kind moon that gleamed its unique moonlight. The crickets’ silver-tongued, relaxing song encircled the two-story cottage with its soothing humming.

After the Howards had a dinner and the triplets were put down to sleep, Timothy promised to wash the dishes, whereas Jude can relax on the hammock until he finishes. As soon as the Bostonian fled the property and seating on the hammock, low, eloquent hum buzzed her rosy-coloured, damp lips by swinging it. Her caramel brown irises were transfixed on the porch, relishing the nocturnal silence that blanketed in its lukewarm blanket the nature. Each summer night was one of her favorite things about the summer even if she wasn’t very fond of the summer, due to the sweltering heats.

All of a sudden, the notoriously squeaky front door clicked in opening as the British aristocrat finished with washing the dishes in the kitchen and shutting the door behind him after setting a foot on the wooden porch.

“Yar so quick, honey!” The former licentious nightclub singer emphasized, slapping her bare, alabaster thigh with the palm of her elvish, creamy hand.

“There weren’t many dishes for washing at all.” In the meanwhile, the British compatriot ambled up to the older woman as they shifted their positions as Jude was on top of him, whilst his both potent, muscular arms were snaked around her waist, contemplating the stars and the moon.

“Don’t play it the liar!”

“I’m not.”

“I’m sure ya wanted to be as quick as possible in washing them so that to come here on the hammock and,” Meantime, the former woman of the cloth mewled as one of his colossal, secure hands drifted upward to her lion mane of flossy old Hollywood gilt curls, twirling and combing its curls between his fingers as they knotted on each finger.

“And to be with you, rare bird!” He cut her off curtly as they couldn’t suppress a half-hearted, joyful snigger, scratching their throats.

“I knew it. The summer nights are so beautiful.”

“Not as much as you, Judy!”

“Aw!” In the interval, the older woman babbled a mellow mewl, vibrating vocally in her throat, restlessly blinking her eyelids as the lukewarm summer night climate fanned their exposed epidermis and hair. Warmness pricked her sensitive, delicate flesh of her anatomy. “So as yar undeniably handsome.”

“You’re actually the beauty here.”

Temporal silence arched in a halt as Jude took a deep breath, surging its burdening oxygen from the top of her lungs, inhaling inwardly the nocturnal air that waffled across her nose.

“If ya think like that, ya really need some good pair of eyeglasses before saying it straightforwardly.” In the meantime, they nuzzled one another’s noses, muffling meowing floating from their lips.

“I don’t need any pair of eyeglasses to see the real beauty, Jude!”

“I’m tremendously lucky to have ya and I love ya so much to bones, Timothy!”

“I’m way luckier to have you and I love you even more than anything, my rara avis!” They sealed their soft, damp lips in a steamy, resiliently silencing kiss by melting into it, whereas the former holy woman’s manicured in ravishing red toes curled up, during the kiss they shared. The palms of her flabbergastingly warm hands cupped his cheeks, tilting his head as they fluttered their eyelids shut.


End file.
